•    .    C    : 


< 


THE  MIRACLE  MAN 


THE 

MIRACLE  MAN 

BY 

FRANK  L.  PACKARD 

AUTHOR  OF 
GREATER  LOVE  HATH  NO  MAN,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH  SCENES 
FROM  THE  PHOTOPLAY 
PRESENTED  BY  MAYFLOWER 
PHOTOPLAY  CORPORATION. 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,    1914 
BY    FRANK    L.  PACKARD 


TO 

NEARLY 
EVERYBODY 


2052617 


CHAPTBR  PAGE 

I    THE  "Roosr" .    .     .    :..    .      9 

II    A  NEW  CULT 23 

III  NEEDLEY .    .     . 43 

IV  THE    PATRIARCH 52 

V  A  STRANGE   CONVERSATION    .     .     .    >.    ....     62 

VI  OFFICIALLY    ENDORSED      .....     ,:    ...    79 

VII  THE   PATRIARCH'S  GRAND  NIECE    ......     87 

VIII  IN  WHICH  THE  BAIT  Is  NIBBLED  ......     97 

IX    THE  PILGRIMAGE 109 

X    THE  MIRACLE 121 

XI    THE    AFTERMATH       130 

XII    "SAID  THE  SPIDER  TO  THE  FLY" 141 

XIII  REAL   MONEY    ............  150 

XIV  KNOTTING  THE  STRINGS 163 

XV  THE  MIRACLE   OVERDONE     ........  177 

XVI    A  FLY  IN  THE  OINTMENT 194 

XVII    IN  WHICH  HELENA  TAKES  A  REDE 203 

XVIII    THE  BOOMERANG 222 

XIX    THE  SANCTUARY  OF  DARKNESS 234 

XX     To    THE    VlCTOP.    ARE    THE    SPOILS 345 

XXI    FACE   VALUE    »..,... 255 

XXII  THE   SHRINE     .     .    -..    .     .     .<    ;.;    >     ....  272 

XXIII  THE  WAT   Our   .     .:    >     .     .    >:    .     ....  286 

XXIV  VALE!     .     .     .    .«    .;    .    M    w    :.,    ...    .    ...    .     .  297 


THE  MIRACLE  MAN 


The  Miracle 


Man 

£ 

THE   "  ROOST  " 


H 


E  was  a  misshapen  thing,  bulking  a 
black  blotch  in  the  night  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  dark  alleyway — like 
some  lurking  creature  in  its  lair.  He 
neither  stood,  nor  kneeled,  nor  sat  —  no  single 
word  would  describe  his  posture  —  he  combined 
all  three  in  a  sort  of  repulsive,  formless  heap. 

The  Flopper  moved.  He  came  out  from  the 
alleyway  onto  the  pavement,  into  the  lurid  lights 
of  the  Bowery,  flopping  along  knee  to  toe  on  one 
leg,  dragging  the  other  leg  behind  him  —  and  the 
leg  he  dragged  was  limp  and  wobbled  from  the 
knee.  One  hand  sought  the  pavement  to  balance 
himself  and  aid  in  locomotion;  the  other  arm,  the 
right,  was  twisted  out  from  his  body  in  tke  shape 
of  an  inverted  V,  the  palm  of  his  hand,  with  half 
cuiied,  contorted  fingers,  almost  touching  his  chin, 

9 


THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

as  his  head  sagged  at  a  stiff,  set  angle  into  his 
right  shoulder.  Hair  straggled  from  the  brim 
of  a  nondescript  felt  hat  into  his  eyes,  and  curled, 
dirty  and  unshorn,  around  his  ears  and  the  nape 
of  his  neck.  His  face  was  covered  with  a  stubble 
of  four  days'  growth,  his  body  with  rags  —  a 
coat;  a  shirt,  the  button  long  since  gone  at  the 
neck;  and  trousers  gaping  in  wide  rents  at  the 
knees,  and  torn  at  the  ankles  where  they  flapped 
around  miss-mated  socks  and  shoes. 

A  hundred,  two  hundred  people  passed  him  in 
a  block,  the  populace  of  the  Bowery  awakening 
into  fullest  life  at  midnight,  men,  women  and 
children  —  the  dregs  of  the  city's  scum  —  the  aris- 
tocracy of  upper  Fifth  Avenue,  of  Riverside 
Drive,  aping  Bohemianism,  seeking  the  lure  of  the 
Turkey  Trot,  transported  from  the  Barbary  Coast 
of  San  Francisco.  Rich  and  poor,  squalor  and 
affluence,  vice  and  near-vice  surged  by  him,  voic- 
ing their  different  interests  with  laughter  and  sobs 
and  soft  words  and  blasphemy,  and,  in  a  sort  of 
mocking  chorus,  the  composite  effect  rose  and  fell 
in  pitiful,  jangling  discords. 

Few  gave  him  heed  —  and  these  few  but  a 
cursory,  callous  glance.  The  Flopper,  on  the  in- 
side of  the  sidewalk,  in  the  shadow  of  the  build- 
ings, gave  as  little  as  he  got,  though  his  eyes  were 
fastened  sharply,  now  ahead,  now,  screwing 
around  his  body  to  look  behind  him,  on  the  faces 
of  the  pedestrians  as  they  passed;  or,  rather,  he 
appeared  to  look  through  and  beyond  those  in  his 
immediate  vicinity  to  the  ones  that  followed  in 


"THE  ROOST" 

his  rear  from  further  down  the  street,   or 
proached  him  from  the  next  corner. 

Suddenly  the  Flopper  shrank  into  a  doorwayc 
From  amidst  the  crowd  behind,  the  yellow  flare 
of  a  gasoline  lamp,  outhanging  from  a  second' 
hand  shop,  glinted  on  brass  buttons.  An  officer, 
leisurely  accommodating  his  pace  to  his  own  mo- 
narchial  pleasure,  causing  his  hurrying  fellow  occu- 
pants of  the  pavement  to  break  and  circle  around 
him,  sauntered  casually  by.  The  Flopper' s  black 
eyes  contracted  with  hate  and  a  scowl  settled  on 
his  face,  as  he  watched  the  policeman  pass;  then, 
as  the  other  was  lost  again  in  the  crowd  ahead,  he 
once  more  resumed  his  progress  down  the  block. 

The  Flopper  crossed  the  intersecting  street,  his 
leg  trailing  a  helpless,  sinuous  path  on  its  not  over- 
clean  surface,  and  started  along  the  next  block. 
Halfway  down  was  a  garishly  lighted  establish- 
ment. When  near  this  the  Flopper  began  to 
hurry  desperately,  as  from  further  along  the  street 
again  his  ear  caught  the  peculiar  raucous  note  of 
an  automobile  horn  accompanied  by  the  rumbling 
approach  of  a  heavy  motor  vehicle.  He  edged 
his  way  now,  wriggling,  squirming  and  dodging 
between  the  pedestrians,  to  the  outer  edge  of  the 
sidewalk,  and  stopped  in  front  of  the  music  halL 

A  sight-seeing  car,  crammed  to  capacity,  reach- 
ing its  momentary  Mecca,  drew  up  at  the  curb; 
and  the  guide's  voice  rose  over  the  screech  of  the 
brakes : 

"  Now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  we  will  get  out 
here  for  a  little  while.  This  is  Black  Ike's  fa- 


12  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

mous  Auditorium,  the  scene  of  last  week's  sensa- 
tional triple  murder!  Please  remember  that 
there  is  no  charge  for  admission  to  patrons  of  the 
company.  Just  show  your  coupons,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  and  walk  right  ahead." 

The  passengers  began  to  pour  from  the  long 
seats  to  the  ground.  The  Flopper's  hat  was  in 
his  hand. 

"  Fer  God's  sake,  gents  an'  ladies,  don't  pass 
me  by,"  he  cried  piteously.  "  I  could  work  once, 
but  look  at  me  now  —  I  was  run  over  by  a  fire 
truck.  God  bring  pity  to  yer  hearts  —  youse 
have  money  fer  pleasure,  spare  something  fer 
me." 

The  first  man  down  from  the  seat  halted  and 
stared  at  the  twisted,  unsightly  thing  before  him, 
and,  with  a  little  gasp,  reached  into  his  pocket 
and  dropped  a  bill  into  the  Flopper's  hat. 

"  God  bless  you!  "  stammered  the  Flopper  — 
and  the  tears  sprang  swimming  to  his  eyes. 

The  first  man  passed  on  with  a  gruff,  "  Oh,  all 
right,"  but  he  had  left  an  example  behind  him 
that  few  of  his  fellow  passengers  ignored. 

"  T'ank  you,  mum,"  mumbled  the  Flopper,  as 
the  money  dropped  into  his  hat  "  God  reward 
you,  sir  ...  Ah,  miss,  may  you  never  know  a, 
tear  .  .  .  'Twas  heaven  brought  you  'ere  to- 
night, lady." 

They  passed,  following  the  guide.  The  Flop- 
per scooped  the  money  into  a  pile  in  his  hat,  be- 
gan to  tuck  it  away  in  some  recess  of  his  shirt  — 
when  a  hand  was  thrust  suddenly  under  his  now. 


"THE  ROOST'  13 

"  Come  on,  now,  divvy!  "  snapped  %  voice  in 
kis  ear. 

It  was  the  driver  of  the  car,  who  had  dropped 
from  his  seat  to  the  ground.  A  gleam  of  hate 
replaced  the  tears  in  the  Flopper's  eyes. 

"  Go  to  hell!  "  he  snarled  through  thin  lips • — 
and  his  hand  closed  automatically  over  the 
cap. 

"  Come  on,  now,  I  ain't  got  no  time  to  fool !  " 
prompted  the  man,  with  a  leer.  "  I'm  dead  onto 
your  lay,  and  there's  a  bull  comin'  along  now  — 
half  or  him,  which?  " 

The  Flopper's  eyes  caught  the  brass  buttons  of 
the  officer  returning  on  his  beat,  and  his  face  was 
white  with  an  inhuman  passion,  as,  clutching  a 
portion  of  what  was  left  in  the  hat,  he  lifted  his 
hand  from  the  rest. 

"  Thanks !  "  grinned  the  chauffeur,  snatching  at 
the  remainder.  "  'Tain't  half,  but  it'll  do  "--, 
and  he  hurried  across  the  sidewalk,  and  disap- 
peared inside  a  saloon. 

Oaths,  voicing  a  passion  that  rocked  die  Flop- 
per  to  his  soul,  purled  in  a  torrid  stream  from  his 
lips,  and  for  a  moment  made  him  forget  the  prox- 
imity of  the  brass  buttons.  He  raised  his  fist, 
that  still  clenched  some  of  the  money,  and  shook 
it  after  the  other  —  and  his  fist,  uplifted  in  mid- 
air, was  caught  in  a  vicious  grip  —  the  harness 
bull  was  standing  over  him. 

"  Beat  it !  "  rasped  the  officer  roughly,  "  or  I'll 
—  hullo,  what  you  got  here  ?  Open  your  hand !  " 
• — he  gave  a  sharp  twist  as  he  spoke,  the  Flop- 


14  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

per's  fingers  uncurled,  and  the  money  dropped 
into  the  policeman's  other  hand  —  held  conven- 
iently below  the  Flopper's. 

"  It's  mine  —  gimme  it  back,"  whined  the 
Flopper. 

'  Yours !  Yours,  is  it !  "  growled  the  officer. 
"  Where'd  you  get  it?  Stole  it,  eh?  Go  on, 
now,  beat  it  —  or  I'll  run  you  in !  Beat  it !  " 

With  twitching  fingers,  the  Flopper  picked  up 
his  cap,  placed  it  on  his  head  and  sidled  away. 
Ten  yards  along,  in  the  shadow  of  the  buildings 
again,  he  looked  back  —  the  officer  was  still 
standing  there,  twirling  his  stick,  one  hand  just 
emerging  from  his  pocket.  The  Flopper's  finger 
nails  scratched  along  the  stone  pavement  and 
curved  into  the  palm  of  his  hand  until  the  skin 
under  the  knuckles  was  bloodless  white,  and  his 
lips  moved  in  ugly,  whispered  words  —  then,  still 
whispering,  he  went  on  again. 

Down  the  Bowery  he  went  like  a  human  toad, 
keeping  in  the  shadows,  keeping  his  eyes  on  the 
ground  before  him,  a  glint  like  a  shudder  in  their 
depths  —  on  he  went  with  hopping,  lurching 
jerks,  with  whispering  lips.  Street  after  street 
he  passed,  and  then  at  a  corner  he  turned  and 
went  East  —  not  far,  only  to  the  side  entrance 
of  the  saloon  on  the  corner  known,  to  those  who 
knew,  as  the  "  Roost." 

The  door  before  which  he  stopped,  on  a  level 
with  the  street,  might  readily  have  passed  for 
the  entrance  to  one  of  the  adjoining  tenements, 
for  it  was  innocent  to  all  appearances  of  any  con- 


"THE  ROOST'  15 

nection  with  the  unlovely  resort  of  which  it  was 
a  part  —  and  it  was  closed. 

The  Flopper  rang  no  bell.  After  a  quick 
glance  around  him  to  assure  himself  that  he  was 
not  observed,  he  reached  up  for  the  doorknob, 
turned  it,  and  with  surprising  agility  hopped  over 
the  threshold  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

A  staircase,  making  one  side  of  a  narrow  and 
dimly  lighted  hall,  from  down  whose  length  came 
muffled  sounds  from  the  barroom,  was  before  him; 
and  this,  without  hesitation,  the  Flopper  began 
to  mount,  his  knee  thumping  from  step  to  step, 
his  dangling  leg  echoing  the  sound  in  a  peculiar 
quick  double  thump.  He  reached  the  first  land- 
ing, went  along  it,  and  started  up  the  second  flight 
—  but  now  the  thumping  sound  he  made  seemed 
accentuated  intentionally,  and  upon  his  face  there 
cpread  a  grin  of  malicious  humor. 

He  halted  before  the  door  opposite  the  head 
of  the  second  flight  of  stairs,  opened  it,  wriggled 
Inside  and  shut  it  behind  him. 

"Hullo,  Helena!"  he  snickered.  "Pipe  me 
comin'  ?  " 

The  room  was  a  fairly  large  one,  gaudily  ap- 
pointed with  cheap  furnishings,  one  of  the  Roost's 
private  parlors  —  a  girl  on  a  couch  in  the  corner 
had  raised  herself  on  her  elbow,  and  her  dark 
eyes  were  fixed  uncompromisingly  upon  the  Flop- 
per, but  she  made  no  answer. 

The  Flopper  laughed  —  then  a  spasm  seemed 
to  run  through  him,  a  horrible  boneless  contor- 
tion of  limbs  and  body,  a  slippery,  twitching 


1 6  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

movement,  a  repulsive  though  almost  inaudible 
clicking  of  rehabilitated  joints  —  and  the  Flopper 
stood  erect. 

The  girl  was  on  her  feet,  her  eyes  flashing. 

"Can  that  stunt  S  "  she  cried  angrily.  "You 
give  me  the  shivers !  Next  time  you  throw  your 
fit,  you  throw  it  before  you  come  around  me,  or 
I'll  make  you  wish  you  had  —  see?  " 

The  Flopper  was  swinging  legs  and  arms  to 
restore  a  normal  channel  of  circulation. 

'  Y'oughter  get  used  to  it,"  said  he,  with  a 
grin.  "  Ain't  Pale  Face  Harry  come  yet,  an' 
where's  the  Doc?  " 

"  Behind  the  axe  under  the  table,"  said  the 
girl  tartly  —  and  flung  herself  back  on  the  couch. 

"  T'anks,"  said  the  Flopper.  "  Say,  Helena, 
wot's  de  new  lay  de  Doc  has  got  up  his  sleeve?  " 

Helena  made  no  answer. 

"  Is  yer  grouch  painin'  you  so's  yer  tongue's 
hurt?"  inquired  the  Flopper  solicitously. 

Still  no  answer. 

;<  Well,  go  to  the  devil !  "  said  the  Flopper 
politely. 

He  resumed  the  swinging  of  his  arms  and  legs, 
but  stopped  suddenly  a  moment  later  as  a  step 
sounded  outside  in  the  hall  and  he  turned  expect- 
antly. 

A  young  man,  thin,  emaciated,  with  gaunt,  hol- 
low face,  abnormally  bright  eyes  and  sallow  skin, 
entered.  He  was  well,  but  modestly,  dressed; 
and  he  coughed  a  little  now,  as  though  the  two 
flights'  climb  had  overtaxed  him  —  it  was  the 


"THE  ROOST'  I7' 

man  who  had  headed  the  subscription  list  to  the 
Flopper  half  an  hour  before  in  front  of  Black 
Ike's  Auditorium. 

"  Hello,  Helena !  "  he  greeted,  nodding  toward 
the  touch.  ''  I  shook  the  rubber-neck  bunch  at 
Ike's,  Flopper.  That  was  a  peach  of  a  haul,  eh, 
old  pal  —  the  boobs  came  to  it  as  though  they 
couldn't  get  enough." 

A  sudden  and  reminiscent  scowl  clouded  the 
Flopper's  face.  He  stepped  to  the  table,  reached 
his  hand  into  his  shirt,  and  flung  down  a  single 
one-dollar  bill  and  a  few  coins. 

"  Dere's  de  haul,  Harry  —  help  yerself  " — 
his  invitation  was  a  snarl. 

Pale  Face  Harry  had  followed  to  the  table. 
He  looked  first  at  the  money,  then  at  the  Flopper 
—  and  a  tinge  of  red  dyed  his  cheek.  He 
coughed  before  he  spoke. 

4  Y'ain't  going  to  stall  on  me,  Flopper,  are 
you?  "  he  demanded,  in  an  ominous  monotone. 

"  Stall!  " — the  word  came  away  in  a  roar  too- 
genuine  to  leave  any  doubt  of  the  Flopper's  sin- 
cerity, or  the  turbulent  state  of  the  Flopper's  soul. 
"  Stall  nothin' !  De  driver  held  me  up  fer  some 
of  it,  an'  de  cop  pinched  de  rest." 

"  And  you  the  king  of  Floppers !  "  breathed 
Pale  Face  Harry  sadly.  "  D'ye  hear  that, 
Helena?  Come  over  here  and  listen.  Go 
ahead,  Flopper,  tell  us  about  it." 

Helena  rose  from  the  couch  and  came  over  to 
the  table. 

"  Poor  Flopper!  "  said  she  sweetly. 


iS  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  Shut  up !  "  snapped  the  Flopper  savagely. 

11  Go  on,"  prompted  Pale  Face  Harry.  "  Go 
on,  Flopper  —  tell  us  about  it." 

14 1  told  you,  ain't  I  ?  "  growled  the  Flopper. 
"  De  driver  called  a  divvy  wid  de  cop  comin',  an 
I  had  ter  shell  —  an'  wot  he  left  de  cop  pinched. 
Dat's  all  " —  the  Flopper's  mouth  was  working 
again  with  the  rage  that  burned  within  him. 

Pale  Face  Harry,  with  pointed  forefinger, 
gingerly  and  facetiously  laid  the  coins  out  in  a  row 
on  the  table. 

41  And  you  the  king  of  Floppers!"  he  mur- 
mured softly.  "  It's  a  wonder  you  didn't  let  the 
Salvation  Army  get  the  rest  away  from  you  on 
the  way  along  1  " 

Helena  laughed  —  but  the  Flopper  didn't.  He 
stepped  close  to  Pale  Face  Harry,  and  shoved  his 
face  within  an  inch  of  the  other's. 

'  You  close  yer  jaw,"  he  snarled,  "  or  I'll  make 
yer  map  look  like  wot's  goin'  ter  happen  ter  dat 
cross-eyed  snitch  of  a  guy  dat  did  me  —  him  an'  de 
harness  bull,  when  I  — "  The  Flopper  stopped 
abruptly,  and  edged  away  from  Pale  Face  Harry. 
"  Hullo,  Doc,"  he  said  meekly.  "  I  didn't  hear 
youse  comin'  in." 

A  man,  fair-haired,  broad-shouldered,  immacu- 
late in  well-tailored  tweeds,  relia*nt  in  poise,  leaned 
nonchalantly  against  the  door  —  inside  the  room. 
He  was  young,  not  more  than  twenty-eight,  with 
clean-shaven,  pleasant,  open  face  —  a  handsome 
face,  marred  only  to  the  close  observer  by  the 
wrinkles  beginning  to  pucker  around  his  eyes,  and 


"THE  ROOST'  19 

a  slight,  scarcely  discernible  puffiness  in  his  skin 
—  "  Doc  "  Madison,  gentleman  crook  and  high- 
class,  polished  con-man,  who  had  lifted  his  pro- 
fession to  an  art,  was  still  too  young  to  be  indelibly 
stamped  with  the  hall-marks  of  dissipation. 

His  gray  eyes  travelled  from  one  to  another, 
lingered  an  instant  on  Helena,  and  came  back  to 
the  Flopper. 

"  What's  the  trouble?  "  he  demanded  quietly. 

It  was  Pale  Face  Harry  who  answered  him. 

"  Tke  Flopper's  got  it  in  for  a  couple  of  ginks 
that  handed  him  one  —  a  bull  and  a  chauffeur  on 
a  gape-wagon,"  he  grinned,  punctuating  his  words 
with  a  cough.  "  The  Flopper's  got  an  idea  the 
corpse-preserver's  business  is  dull,  and  he's  going 
to  help  'em  out  with  two  orders  and  pay  for  the 
flowers  himself." 

Doc  Madison  shook  his  head  and  smiled  a  little 
grimly. 

"  Forget  it,  Flopper !  "  he  said  crisply.  "  I've 
something  better  for  you  to  do.  You  fade  away, 
disappear  and  lay  low  from  this  minute.  I  don't 
care  what  you  do  when  you're  resurrected,  but 
from  now  on  the  three  of  you  are  dead  and 
buried,  and  the  police  go  into  mourning  for  at 
least  six  months." 

"What  you  got  for  us,  Doc?  —  something 
nice?" — Helena  pushed  Pale  Face  Harry  and 
the  Flopper  unceremoniously  out  of  her  line  of 
vision  as  she  spoke. 

"  Yes  —  the  drinks.  Cleggy's  bringing  them," 
Madison  laughed  —  and  opened  the  door,  as  the 


20  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

tinkle  of  glass  and  a  shuffling  footstep  sounded 
without. 

A  man,  big,  hulking,  thick-set  and  slouching, 
with  shifty,  cunning  little  black  eyes  and  the  face 
of  a  bruiser,  his  nose  bent  over  and  almost  flat- 
tened down  on  one  cheek,  entered  the  room,  car- 
rying four  glasses  on  a  tin  tray.  He  set  down 
the  tray,  and,  as  he  lifted  the  glasses  from  it  and 
placed  them  on  the  table,  he  leered  around  at  the 
little  group. 

"  Gee !  "  he  said,  sucking  in  his  breath.  "  De 
Doc,  an'  Helena,  an'  Pale  Face,  an'  de  Flopper! 
Gee,  dis  looks  like  de  real  t'ing  —  dis  looks  like 
biz." 

"  It  does  —  fifty-cents'  worth  —  ten  for  your- 
self," said  Doc  Madison  suavely,  flipping  the  coin 
into  the  tray.  "Now,  clear  out!" 

"  Say  " —  Cleggy  put  his  forefinger  significantly 
to  the  side  of  his  nose  — "  say,  can't  youse  let  a 
sport  in  on  — " 

"  Clear  out !  "  Doc  Madison  broke  in  quite 
as  suavely  as  before  —  but  there  was  a  sudden 
glint  of  steel  in  the  gray  eyes  as  they  held  the 
bruiser's,  and  Cleggy,  hastily  picking  up  the  tray, 
scuffled  from  the  room. 

Madison  watched  the  door  close,  then  he  be- 
gan to  pace  slowly  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  Pull  the  chairs  up  to  the  table  so  we  can 
take  things  comfortably,"  he  directed. 

"  There  ain't  but  two,"  grinned  Pale  Face 
Harry. 

"  Oh,     well,     never     mind,"     said     Madison. 


'THE  ROOST'  21 

"  Slew   the   couch   around   and   pull   that  up  — 
Helena  and  I  will  sit  on  the  head  of  it." 

Still  pacing  up  and  down  the  length  of  the  room, 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  Doc  Madison  watched 
the  others  as  they  carried  out  his  directions;  and 
then,  suddenly,  as  he  neared  the  door,  his  hand 
shot  out,  wrenched  the  door  open,  and,  quick  as 
a  panther  in  its  spring,  he  was  in  the  hall  without. 

There  was  a  yell,  a  scuffle,  the  rip  and  crash  of 
rending  bannisters,  an  instant's  silence,  then  a 
heavy  thud  —  and  then  Cleggy's  voice  from  some- 
where below  in  a  choice  and  fervent  flow  of  pro- 
fanity. 

Doc  Madison  re-entered  the  room,  closed  the 
door,  dispassionately  arranged  a  disordered  cuff, 
brushed  a  few  particles  of  dust  from  his  sleeves 
and  shoulder,  and,  this  done,  started  toward  the 
table  —  and  stopped. 

Helena  had  swung  herself  to  the  table  edge, 
and,  glass  in  hand,  dangling  her  neatly  shod  little 
feet,  was  smoking  a  cigarette,  her  brown  hair  with 
a  glint  of  amber  in  it,  her  dark  eyes  veiled  now 
by  their  heavy  lashes;  on  the  other  side  of  the 
table  Pale  Face  Harry  coughed,  as,  with  sleeve 
rolled  back,  he  was  intent  on  the  hypodermic  nee- 
dle he  was  pushing  into  his  arm;  while  the  Flop- 
per,  his  eyes  with  a  dog-like  admiration  in  them 
fixed  on  Madison,  stood  facing  the  door,  a  gro- 
tesque, unpleasant  figure,  unkempt,  unshaven,  fur- 
tive-faced, his  rags  hanging  disreputably  about 
him,  his  trousers  with  their  frayed  edges,  now 
that  he  stood  upright,  reaching  far  above  his  boot 


22  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

tops  and  flagrantly  exposing  his  wretched  substi- 
tutes for  socks. 

Doc  Madison  reached  thoughtfully  into  his 
pocket,  brought  out  a  silver  cigarette  case,  and 
carefully  selected  a  cigarette  from  amongst  its 
fellows. 

"Yes;  Cleggy  was  right,"  he  said  softly,  tap- 
ping the  end  of  the  cigarette  on  his  thumb  nail. 
"  You're  the  real  thing  — -  the  real,  real  thing." 


—  II  — 

A  NEW  CULT 

DOC  MADISON  swung  Helena  lightly 
down  from  the  table  to  the  head  of 
the  couch,  sat  down  beside  her,  one 
arm  circling  her  waist,  and  mo- 
tioned the  Flopper  to  a  chair  —  then  he  leaned 
forward  and  watched  Pale  Face  Harry  critically, 
as  the  latter  carefully  replaced  the  shining  little 
hypodermic  in  its  case. 

"  Harry,"  said  he  abruptly,  jerking  his  free 
hand  toward  the  hypodermic,  "  could  you  give 
up  that  dope-needle?  " 

"Sure,  I  could  —  if  I  wanted  to!"  asserted 
Pale  Face  Harry  defiantly. 

"  That's  good,"  said  Madison  cheerfully. 
"  Because  you'll  have  to." 

"Eh?"— Pale  Face  Harry  stared  at  Doc 
Madison  in  amazement. 

"  Because  you'll  have  to  —  by  and  by,"  said 
Madison  coolly.  f<  And  hew  about  that  cough 
—  can  you  quit  coughing?" 

"When  I'm  dead  —  which  won't  be  long,'* 
sniffed  Pale  Face  Harry.  "  D'ye  think  I  cough 
because  I  like  it?  How'm  I  going  to  quit  cough- 
ing?" 


24  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  I  don't  know,"  admitted  Doc  Madison, 
frowning  seriously.  "  I  only  know  you'll  have 
to." 

Pale  Face  Harry,  with  jaw  dropped,  accentu- 
ating the  gaunt  leanness  of  his  hollow-cheeked, 
emaciated  face,  gazed  at  Doc  Madison  with  a 
curious  mingling  of  incredulity  and  affront  —  and 
coughed. 

"  Say,"  he  inquired  grimly,  "  what's  the  an- 
swer? " 

Doc  Madison  took  his  arm  from  Helena's 
waist,  pulled  a  newspaper  from  his  pocket,  spread 
it  out  on  the  table  —  and  his  manner  changed 
suddenly  —  enthusiasm  was  in  his  eyes,  his  voice, 
his  face. 

"  I've  steered  you  three  through  a  few  deals," 
said  he  impressively,  "  that  have  sized  up  big 
enough  to  keep  you  out  of  the  raw  vaudeville  turn 
you,  Harry,  and  you,  Flopper,  are  so  fond  of, 
and  that  would  have  put  Helena  here  on  easy 
street,  if  you  hadn't  blown  in  all  you  got  about 
ten  minutes  after  you  got  your  hands  on  it  —  but 
I've  got  one  here  that  sizes  up  so  big  you  wouldn't 
be  able  to  spend  the  money  fast  enough  to  close 
out  your  bank  account  if  you  did  your  damnedest ! 
Get  that?  It's  the  greatest  cinch  that  ever  came 
down  from  the  gateway  of  heaven  —  and  that's 
where  it  came  from  —  heaven.  It  couldn't  have 
come  from  anywhere  else  —  it's  too  good.  And 
it's  new,  bran  new  —  it's  never  had  the  string  cut 
or  the  wrapper  taken  off.  It's  got  anything  that 
was  ever  run  beaten  by  more  laps  than  there  are  in 


A  NEW  CULT  25, 

the  track,  and  it's  got  a  purse  tied  on  to  the  end 
of  it  that's  the  biggest  ever  offered  since  Adam. 
But  you've  got  to  work  for  it,  and  that's  what  I 
brought  you  here  for  to-night  —  to  learn  your  little 
pieces  so's  you  can  say  'em  nice  and  cute  when 
you  get  up  on  the  platform  before  the  audience." 

The  Flopper's  tongue  made  a  greedy  circuit 
of  his  upper  and  under  lips,  and  he  hitched  his 
chair  closer  to  the  table. 

A  flush  spread  over  Pale  Face  Harry's  cheeks, 
and  his  eyes,  abnormally  bright,  grew  brighter. 

"  You're  all  right,  Doc,"  he  assured  Doc  Madi- 
son anxiously.  "  You're  all  right." 

"U-uu-mm!"  cooed  Helena  excitedly.  "Go 
on,  Doc  —  go  on !  " 

"  Listen,"  said  Doc  Madison,  his  voice  lowered 
a  little.  "  I  found  this  tucked  away  as  a  filler 
in  a  corner  of  the  newspaper  this  evening.  It's 
headed,  '  A  New  Cult,'  with  an  interrogation  mark 
after  it.  Now  listen,  while  I  read  it:  " 

A  NEW  CULT? 

Needley,  Maine,  offers  no  attraction  for  aspiring  young 
medical  men.  One  who  tried  it  recently,  and  who  pulled 
down  his  shingle  in  disgust  after  a  week,  says  competition 
is  too  strong,  as  the  village  is  obsessed  with  the  belief  that 
they  have  a  sort  of  faith-healer  in  their  midst  to  whom  is 
attributed  cures  of  all  descriptions  stretching  back  for  a 
generation  or  more.  The  healer,  he  adds,  who  rejoices 
in  the  name  of  the  Patriarch  and  lives  in  solitude  a  mile  or 
so  from  the  village,  is  something  of  an  anomaly  in  himself, 
being  both  deaf  and  dumb.  We  — 


26  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  But  that's  all  that  interests  us,"  said  Doc 
Madison,  as  he  stopped  reading  abruptly  and 
lifted  his  head  to  scrutinize  his  companions  quiz- 
zically. 

Pale  Face  Harry's  eyes  had  lost  their  gleam 
and  dulled  —  he  gaped  reproachfully  at  Doc 
Madison.  Helena's  small  mouth  drooped  down- 
ward in  a  disappointed  moue.  Only  the  Flopper 
evidenced  enthusiastic  response. 

"Sure!"  he  chortled.  "Sure  t'ing!  I  see. 
De  old  geezer'll  have  a  pile  of  shekels  hid  away, 
an'  he  lives  by  his  lonesome  a  mile  from  de  town. 
We  sneaks  down  dere,  croaks  de  guy  wid  de  queer 
monaker,  an'  beats  it  wid  de  shekels  —  sure !  " 

Doc  Madison  turned  a  sad  gray  eye  on  the 
Flopper. 

"  Flopper,"  said  he  pathetically,  "  your  soul, 
like  your  bones,  runs  to  rank  realism.  No;  we 
don't  '  croak  de  guy  ' —  we  cherish  him,  we  nurse 
him,  we  fondle  him.  He's  our  one  best  bet,  and 
we  fold  him  to  our  breasts  tenderly,  and  we  pro- 
tect him  from  all  harm  and  danger  and  sudden 
death." 

The  Flopper  blinked  a  little  helplessly. 

"  Mabbe,"  said  the  Flopper,  "  I  got  de  wrong 
dope.  Some  of  dem  words  you  read  I  ain't  hip 
to.  Wot's  anymaly  mean?" 

"Anomaly?" — Doc  Madison  reached  for  his 
glass,  tossed  off  the  contents  and  set  it  down.  "  It 
means,  Flopper,  in  this  particular  instance,"  he 
said  gravely,  "  that  .there  shouldn't  be  any  inter- 
rogation point  after  the  heading." 


A  NEW  CULT  27 

Again  the  Flopper  blinked  helplessly  —  and 
his  fingers  picked  uncertainly  at  the  stubble  on  his 
chin.  The  other  two  gazed  disconsolately  — 
and  Helena  a  little  pityingly  as  well  —  at  Doc 
Madison. 

Doc  Madison  flung  out  his  arms  suddenly. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  all?"  he  de- 
manded sarcastically.  "  You  look  as  though  your 
faces  pained  you !  What's  the  matter  with  you  ? 
You're  bright  enough  ordinarily,  Helena,  and, 
Harry,  you're  no  dub  —  what's  the  matter  with 
you  ?  Can't  you  see  it  —  can't  you  see  it !  Why, 
it's  sticking  out  a  mile  —  it's  waiting  for  us ! 
The  whole  plant's  there  and  all  we've  got  to  do 
is  get  steam  under  the  boilers.  We'll  have  'em 
coming  for  the  cure  from  every  State  in  the  Union, 
and  begging  us  to  let  them  throw  their  diamond 
tiaras  at  us  for  a  look-in  at  the  shrine.  Don't 
you  see  it  —  can't  you  get  it  —  can't  you  get 
it!" 

Helena  bent  suddenly  over  Doc  Madison's 
shoulder,  her  eyes  opening  wide  with  dawning 
comprehension. 

"  The  cure?  "  she  breathed. 

"  Sure  —  the  cure,"  said  Doc  Madison  ear- 
nestly. "The  new  cult  —  that's  us.  Get  the 
people  talking,  show  'em  something,  and  you'll 
have  to  put  up  fences  and  *  keep  off  the  grass  ' 
signs  to  stop  the  lame  and  the  halt  and  the  blind 
and  the  neurasthenics  from  crowding  and  suffocat- 
ing to  death  for  want  of  air.  We'll  start  a  shrine 
down  there  that'll  be  a  winner,  and  the  railroad* 


28  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

will  be  running  excursion-rate  pilgrimages  inside 
of  two  months." 

•Pale  Face  Harry's  chair  creaked,  as,  like  the 
Flopper,  he  now  crowded  it  in  toward  the  table. 

"  I  get  you !  "  said  he  feverishly.  "  I  get  you! 
I've  read  about  them  shrines  —  only  you  gotter 
have  churches,  and  a  carload  of  crutches,  and  that 
sort  of  thing  laying  around." 

Doc  Madison  smiled  pleasantly. 

"Yes;  you've  got  me,  Harry  —  only  we'll  do 
the  stage  setting  a  little  differently.  Mostly  what 
is  required  is  —  faith.  Get  them  going  on  that, 
and  everybody  that's  sick  or  near-sick  in  this  great 
United  States,  that's  got  the  swellest  collection  of 
boobs  and  millionaires  on  earth,  will  swarm  thith- 
erward like  bees  —  there  won't  be  any  one  left 
in  the  sanatoriums  throughout  the  length  of  this 
broad  land  of  freedom  but  the  bell  boys  and  the 
elevator  men.  Get  them  going,  and  all  we've  got 
to  do  is  look  out  we  don't  let  anything  get  by 
us  in  the  crush  —  a  snowball  rolling  down  hill 
will  size  up  like  a  plugged  nickel  alongside  of  a 
twenty-dollar  gold  piece  when  it  gets  to  the  bot- 
tom, compared  with  what  we  start  rolling." 

"  I've  got  you,  too,"  said  Helena.  "  But  I 
don't  see  where  the  faith  is  coming  from,  or  how 
you're  going  to  get  them  coming.  You've  got 
to  show  them  —  you  said  so  yourself  —  even  the 
boobs.  How  are  you  going  to  do  that?  " 

"Well,"  said  Doc  Madison  placidly,  "we'll 
start  the  show  with  —  a  miracle.  I  haven't 


A  NEW  CULT  29 

thoughi  of  anything  more  effective  than  that  so 
far." 

"A  what?"  inquired  Pale  Face  Harry,  with 
a  grin. 

"  A  miracle,"  repeated  Doc  Madison  imper- 
turbably.  "A  miracle  —  with  the  Flopper  here 
in  the  star  role.  The  Flopper  goes  down  there 
all  tied  up  in  knots,  the  high  priest,  alias  the  deaf 
and  dumb  healer,  alias  the  Patriarch,  lays  his 
soothing  hands  upon  him,  the  Flopper  uncoils  into 
something  that  looks  like  a  human  being  —  and 
the  trumpets  blow,  the  band  plays,  and  the  box 
office  opens  for  receipts." 

Helena  slid  from  her  seat,  and,  with  hands  on 
the  edge  of  the  table,  advanced  her  piquant  little 
face  close  to  Doc  Madison's,  staring  at  him, 
breathing  hard. 

"  Say  that  again,"  she  gasped.  "  Say  that 
again  —  say  it  just  once  more." 

Pale  Face  Harry's  hand,  trembling  visibly  with 
emotion,  was  thrust  out  across  the  table. 

"  Put  it  there,  Doc,"  he  whispered  hoarsely. 

The  Flopper,  practical,  earnestly  so,  lifted  his 
right  arm,  wriggled  it  a  little  and  began  to  twist 
it  around,  as  though  it  were  on  a  pivot  at  the 
elbow,  preparatory  to  drawing  it  in,  a  crippled 
thing,  toward  his  chin. 

Doc  Madison  reached  out  hurriedly  and  stopped 
him. 

"  Here,  that'll  do,  Flopper,"  he  said  quietly. 
'  You  don't  need  any  rehearsal  to  hold  your  job 


3o  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

—  you're  down  for  the  number  and  your  check's 
written  out." 

"  Swipe  me !"  said  the  Flqpper  to  the  universe. 
"  I  can  smell  de  pine  woods  of  Maine  in  me  nos- 
trils now.  When  does  I  beat  it,  Doc  —  to-mor- 
rer?" 

Doc  Madison  laughed. 

"No,  Flopper,  not  to-morrow  —  nor  for  sev- 
eral to-morrows  —  not  till  the  bill-posters  get 
through,  and  the  stage  is  dark,  and  you  can  hear 
a  pin  drop  in  the  house.  I  don't  want  you  camp- 
ing out  and  catching  cold  and  missing  any  of  the 
luxuries  you're  accustomed  to,  so  I'll  start  along 
ahead  in  a  day  or  so  myself  and  see  what  kind  of 
accommodations  I  can  secure." 

"  Swipe  me!  "  said  the  Flopper  again.  "An' 
to  think  of  me  wastin'  me  talent  on  rubber-neck 
fleets!" 

A  puzzled  little  frown  puckered  Helena's  fore- 
head. 

"  I  was  thinking  about  the  deaf  and  dumb 
man,"  she  said  slowly.  "  How  about  him,  when 
we  pull  this  off  —  will  he  stand  for  it  —  and 
what'llhedo?" 

"  Aw !  "  said  Pale  Face  Harry  impatiently. 
"  He  don't  count!  He'll  have  bats  in  his  belfry 
anyway,  and  if  he  ain't  he'll  go  off  his  chump  for 
fair  getting  stuck  on  himself  when  he  sees  the 
stunt  he'll  think  he's  done.  He'll  be  looking  for 
the  wings  between  his  shoulder  blades,  and  hunt- 
ing for  the  halo  around  his  head." 

"  Harry  is  waking  up,"  observed  Doc  Madison 


A  NEW  CULT  31 

affably.  "  That's  about  the  idea,  Helena.  I 
haven't  seen  the  Patriarch  yet,  but  I  don't  imagine 
from  his  description  that  it'll  be  very  hard  to  make 
him  believe  in  himself.  He  doesn't  stand  for 
anything  —  we  don't  deal  him  any  cards  —  he's 
just  the  kitty  that  circles  around  with  the  jackpots 
while  we  annex  the  chips." 

Doc  Madison  reached  into  his  vest  pocket,  took 
out  a  penknife  whose  handle  was  gold-chased, 
opened  it,  and  very  carefully  cut  the  article  he  had 
read  from  the  paper.  . 

"  Flopper,"  said  he,  "  you've  heard  of  gold 
bonds,  haven't  you?  " 

The  Flopper's  eyes  gleamed  an  eloquent  re- 
sponse. 

"Only  you've  never  had  any,  eh?"  supplied 
Doc  Madison. 

u  Where'd  I  get  'em?"  inquired  the  Flopper,, 
with  some  bitterness. 

"  Right  here,"  smiled  Doc  Madison,  handing, 
him  the  clipping.  "  Here's  a  trainload  and  a 
bank  vault  full  of  them  combined.  Put  it  away, 
Flopper,  and  don't  lose  it.  Lose  anything  you've 
got  first  —  lose  your  life.  It's  worth  a  private 
car  to  you  with  a  buffet  full  of  fizz,  and  Sambo  to 
wait  on  you  for  the  rest  of  your  life.  Get  that? 
Don't  lose  it!  " 

The  Flopper  tucked  the  clipping  into  the  mys- 
terious recess  of  his  shirt. 

"  Say,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  if  you  say  so,  Doc, 
it'll  be  here  when  dey  plant  me." 

"All  right,   Flopper,"  nodded  Doc  Madison. 


THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

now  let's  get  down  to  cases.  I've  been  able 
'^to  pay  my  club  dues  lately,  and  there's  money 
slough  on  deck  to  buy  the  costumes  and  put  the 
show  on  the  road.  I  start  for  Needley  as  soon 
«s  I  can  get  away.  When  I'm  ready  for  the  sup- 
port, you  three  will  hear  from  me  —  and  in  the 
^meantime  you  lay  low.  Nothing  doing  —  under- 
stand? You'll  get  all  the  lime-light  you  want 
tjefore  you're  through,  and  it's  just  as  well  not  to 
show  up  so  familiar  when  they  throw  the  spot 
<on  you  that  even  the  school  kids  will  know  the  date 
-t>f  your  birth,  and  the  population  will  start  in 
-squabbling  over  the  choice  of  reserved  niches  for 
'you  in  the  Hall  of  Fame.  See?" 

The  Flopper,  Pale  Face  Harry  and  Helena 
•modded  their  heads  with  one  accord. 

"  Give  us  the  whole  lay,  Doc,"  urged  Pale  Face 
Harry.  "  And  give  it  to  us  quick." 

"  Me  mouth's  waterin',"  observed  the  Flop- 
per, licking  his  lips  again. 

Helena  lighted  another  cigarette,  and  swung 
^herself  back  to  her  perch  on  the  head  of  the 
couch. 

Doc  Madison  surveyed  the  three  with  mingled 
admiration  and  delight. 

"  The  world  is  ours!  "  he  murmured  softly. 

"  Oh,  hurry  up  and  give  us  the  rest  of  it," 
purred  Helena.  "We  know  we're  an  all-star 
'  .sast,  all  right." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Doc  Madison  —  and 
llaiighed.  "  Well  then,  the  order  of  your  stage 
will  depend  on  circumstances  and  what  turns 


A  NEW  CULT  3$ 

up  down  there,  but  we'll  start  with  the  Flopper 
now.  First  of  all,  Flopper,  you've  got  to  have-. 
a  name.  What's  your  real  name  —  what  did 
they  decorate  you  with  at  the  baptismal  font  back 
in  the  dark  ages?  " 

The  Flopper  scrubbed  at  his  very  dirty  chm, 
with  a  very  dirty  thumb  and  forefinger. 

"  I  dunno,"  said  the  Flopper  anxiously. 

*4  Well,  never  mind,"  said  Doc  Madison  reas- 
suringly. "  Maybe  you  are  blessed  above  most 
people  —  you  can  pick  one  out  for  yourself. 
What'll  it  be?" 

The  Flopper's  thumb  and  forefinger  scratched 
desperately  for  a  moment,  then  his  face  lightest 
with  inspiration. 

"  Swipe  me!  "  said  he  excitedly.  "  I  got  it— - 
Jimmy  de  Squirm." 

Doc  Madison  shook  his  head  gravely. 

"  No,  Flopper,  I'm  afraid  not,"  he  said  gently^ 
"  That's  another  weak  point  in  your  interprcta^ 
tion  of  the  role,  that  I'll  come  to  in  a  minutex 
We'll  give  you  an  Irish  name  by  way  of  charity 
—  it'll  help  to  make  your  classical  English  sound 
like  brogue.  We'll  call  you  Coogan  —  Michael 
Coogan  —  that  lets  you  off  with  plain  Mike  VK 
times  of  stress." 

"Swipe  me!"  said  the  Flopper,  with  perfect 
complacence. 

"  Glad  it  pleases  you,"  smiled  Doc  Madisoni. 
"  Here's  your  lay,  then.  You've  got  to  remo»» 
ber  that  you  were  born  crooked  and  — " 

Helena  giggled. 


34  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  I  didn't  mean  it  " —  Doc  Madison's  gray  eyes 
twinkled.  '  You  are  waking  up,  too,  Helena. 
I  mean,  Flopper,  you've  got  to  remember  that  you 
were  born  twisted  up  into  the  same  shape  you 
are  in  when  you  hit  Needley.  You  come  from 
—  let's  see  —  we'll  have  to  have  a  big  city  where 
the  next  door  neighbors  pass  each  other  with  a 
vacant  stare.  Ever  been  in  Chicago  ?  " 

"Naw!  Wot  fer?"  said  the  Flopper,  with 
withering  spontaneity.  "  Noo  Yoik  fer  mine." 

"Well,  all  right  —  New  York  it  is,  then," 
agreed  Doc  Madison.  '  You're  poor,  but  re- 
spectable —  and  that  brings  us  to  the  other  point. 
Before  you  go  down  there,  Helena's  going  to 
start  a  little  night-school  with  a  grammar,  and 
teach  you  to  paddle  along  the  fringe  of  the  great 
American  language  so's  you  won't  fall  in  and 
get  wet  all  over  every  time  you  open  your  mouth." 

"  My !  "  exclaimed  Helena.  "  Won't  that  be 
nice!" 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Doc  Madison  drily.     "  And 
don't  run  away  with  the  idea  that  I'm  joking  about 
this  —  that  goes.     I  don't  expect  to  make  a  silver- 
tongued  orator  out  of  you,  Flopper,  and  perhaps 
not  even  a  purist  —  but  I  hope  to  eradicate  a  few 
i  minor  touches  of  Bad  Land  vernacular  from  your 
'vocabulary." 

"  I've  gotcher  —  swipe  me  1  "  grinned  the  Flop- 
per. "  Me  at  school !  Say,  wouldn't  that  put  a 
smile  on  de  maps  of  de  harness  bulls,  an'  de  dips, 
an'  de  lags  doin'  spaces  up  de  river!  " 

"  Quite  so,"  admitted  Doc  Madison  pleasantly. 


A  NEW  CULT  35 

"  You  won't  laugh  when  I  get  through  with 
you,"  remarked  Helena,  her  eyes  on  the  curl  of 
smoke  from  her  cigarette. 

''  There's  just  one  more  thing,"  went  on  Doc 
Madison,  "  and  I'm  through  with  you,  Flopper. 
Don't  come  down  there  looking  like  a  skate  — 
that's  too  raw.  Get  new  clothes  and  a  shave  — 
and  keep  shaved.  And  from  the  minute  you  buy 
your  ticket,  you  keep  your  bones,  or  whatever  a 
beneficent  nature  has  given  you  in  place  of  them, 
out  of  joint  —  see  ?  " 

"  I'm  hip,"  declared  the  Flopper  —  and  the 
dog-like  admiration  for  Doc  Madison  burned  in 
his  eyes.  "  Say,  Doc,  youse  are  de  — " 

"  Never  mind,  Flopper,"  Madison  cut  in 
brightly.  "  It's  getting  late.  Now,  Harry,  about 
you.  You've  got  a  name,  I  believe.  Evans,  isn't 
it?  Yes  —  well,  that  will  do.  Now,  don't  kill 
yourself  at  it,  but  the  more  you  work  your  dope 
needle  overtime  before  you  start,  and  the  harder 
you  cough  when  you  first  land  there  the  better. 
We've  got  to  have  variety,  you  know.  You're  a 
physical  wreck  with  the  folks  back  home  sending 
the  casket  and  trimmings  after  you  on  the  next 
train  In  care  of  the  station  agent." 

"  I  guess,"  coughed  Pale  Face  Harry,  with  a 
sickly  smile,  "  I  look  the  part." 

"  You  certainly  do,"  said  Helena  cheerfully, 
beating  a  tattoo  with  her  heels  on  the  end  of  the 
couch. 

Pale  Face  Harry  scowled. 

"  I  ain't  no  artist  with  the  paint,"  he  sniffed. 


3$  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

u  I  don't  paint,"  said  Helena  sweetly.  "  k's 
jrouge." 

'*  Are  you  through?"  inquired  Doc  Madison 
patiently.  "  Because,  if  you  are,  I'll  go  on. 
When  the  train  whistles  for  Needley,  Harry,  you 
put  the  soft  pedal  on  the  dope  —  that  ought  to 
Jhelp  some.  And  then  you  begin  to  taper  that 
-cough  off  and  become  a  cure  —  that's  all." 

"  1  ain't  like  the  Flopper,"  said  Pale  Face 
Harry  ruefully.  "  I  told  you  once  I  can't  stop 
the  hack,  and  I  ask  you  again  how'm  I  going  to?  " 

**  Have  faith  in  the  Patriarch,"  suggested  Hel- 
ena innocently. 

*  You  close  your  trap  !  "  exclaimed  Pale  Face 
Harry  savagely;  then,  to  Madison:  "Go  on, 
Doc  —  it's  up  to  you." 

**  No,"  said  Doc  Madison  coolly,  "  it's  up  to 
you.  You've  got  to  try,  and  if  you  can't  stop 
-altogether  you  can  make  yourself  scarce  when  you 
feel  the  fit  coming  on  —  you  won't  have  to  climb 
up  on  the  grandstand  and  cough  in  people's  faces, 


you? 

"  He  might  carry  a  screen  around  with  him  and 
'•cough  behind  that,"  volunteered  Helena.  "  That's 
enough  about  the  Flopper  and  Pale  Face  —  what 
about  muh?  Where  do  I  get  off?  " 

"You?"  said  Doc  Madison  calmly.  "  Oh, 
you're  a  moral  neurasthenic." 

"  And  what's  that  when  it's  at  home  ?  "  de- 
manded Helena  sharply. 

Doc  Madison  threw  out  his  hands  in  a  com- 
'ically  helpless,  impotent  gesture. 


A  NEW  CULT  32 

"  It's  what  we  need  to  keep  up  the  standard  o£ 
variety,"  he  said.  ;'  We're  playing  to  the  masses^. 
Don't  you  like  the  role,  Helena  —  it's  the  leading 
woman's." 

"  What  do  I  do?  "  countered  Helena  non-con^ 
mittingly. 

41  Do  ?  "  echoed  Doc  Madison.  "  Why,  you  go 
down  there  like  a  whole  parade  and  a  gorgeous 
pageant  rolled  into  one,  in  feathers  and  paint  and. 
diamond  boulders  in  your  ears  —  and  you  come 
out  of  it  in  a  gingham  apron  and  coy  sursbonnet  as* 
sweet  sixteen." 

*'  Oh !  "  said  Helena  —  and  her  eyes  were  oa 
the  curl  of  smoke  from  her  cigarette  again. 

"  Say,"  said  Pale  Face  Harry  suddenly,  evi- 
dently still  worried  about  his  cough,  "  we  ain't 
going  to  have  no  easy  cinch  of  this." 

"  No,"  said  Doc  Madison,  with  a  grim  smiles 
"  you're  not !  It's  going  to  be  the  hardest  wort 
any  of  you  have  ever  done  —  you've  got  to  leadl 
decent  lives  for  awhile." 

"  Sure  —  dat's  right,"  said  the  loyal  Flopper^ 
"  but  we  stands  fer  anyt'ing  dat  de  Doc  says  — 
an'  dat  goes !  " 

"  It'll  come  hard  on  some  of  us,"  remarked: 
Pale  Face  Harry,  with  a  sly  glance  at  Helena* 
which  met  with  contemptuous  silence. 

Doc  Madison  leaned  back,  felt  carefully  at 
his  carefully  adjusted  tie  —  and  smiled  engag- 
ingly. 

"Well?  "  he  asked.  "  Can  you  see  them  coca* 
ing?" 


38  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Pale  Face  Harry  stared  at  him  with  a  far-away 
expression  in  his  eyes. 

*  When  we  get  through  with  this,  if  I  ain't 
handed  in  my  checks  before,"  he  said  dreamily, 
"  it's  mine  for  a  brownstone  on  the  Avenue,  and 
one  of  them  life-size  landscapes  with  a  shack  on 
it  for  the  season  down  to  Pa'm  Beach  that  they 
call  country  cottages.  I'll  dress  the  ginks  that 
scrub  the  horses  down  in  solid  gold  braid,  and  put 
the  corpse  of  chamber  ladies  in  Irish  lace  —  I 
bust  into  society,  marry  a  duke's  one  and  only, 
and  swipe  her  coronet  for  my  manly  brow.  Did 
you  ask  me  anything,  Doc?  " 

"  Swipe  me!  "  said  the  Flopper.  "  Me  in  me 
private  Pullman  in  a  plush  seat  an'  anudder  to  put 
me  feet  in,  an'  me  thumbs  in  de  armholes  of  me 
vest.  I  wears  a  high  polished  lid  an'  a  red  tie, 
an'  scatters  simoleans  outer  de  window  in  me 
travels  to  the  gazaboes  on  de  platforms  as  I  pass 
—  an'  den  I  joins  Tammany  Hall  so's  I  can  stick 
me  fingers  to  me  nose  every  time  I  sees  a  cop." 

"  Flopper,"  said  Doc  Madison  in  an  awed 
voice,  "  the  honor  is  all  mine." 

Helena  went  off  into  a  peal  of  rippling,  silvery, 
contagious  laughter,  and  her  little  heels  again  beat 
an  exuberant  tattoo  on  the  end  of  the  couch. 

"  Yes?  "  invited  Doc  Madison,  smiling  at  her. 

"  I'm  seeing  them  coming,"  said  Helena  —  and 
one  heel  went  through  the  cretonne  upholstery  of 
the  couch. 

"  Good!  "  said  Doc  Madison  —  and  from  the 
inside  pocket  of  his  coat  he  pulled  out  a  package 


A  NEW  CULT  39 

of  crisp,  new,  yellow-backed  bills.  "  You  under- 
stand that  down  there  none  of  you  ever  heard  of 
each  other  or  of  me  before,  and  you  drop  the 
'  doc  ' —  bury  it !  My  name  is  John  G.  Madison 
—  G.  for  Garfield."  His  fingers  passed  deftly 
over  the  edges  of  the  bills.  He  pushed  a  little 
pile  toward  the  Flopper,  another  toward  Pale 
Face  Harry,  and  tucked  the  remainder  into  his 
coat  pocket  again.  "  That'll  do  for  expenses,"  he 
said.  "  And  now,  if  you  understand  everything, 
principally  that  you're  to  go  to  church  Sundays 
till  you  hear  from  me,  and  you're  quite  satisfied 
with  the  lay,  we'll  adjourn,  sine  die,  to  Needley." 

Helena  was  holding  out  a  very  dainty  hand, 
with  pink,  wiggling  fingers. 

"  I'll  need,  oh,  ever  so  much  more  than  they 
will,"  she  declared,  with  a  bewitching  pout. 
"  And,  please,  I'm  waiting  very  patiently." 

Doc  Madison  laughed. 

"By  and  by,  Helena,"  he  said,  patting  her 
hand.  "Well,  Flopper,  well,  Harry  —  what  do 
you  say?  " 

The  Flopper  pushed  back  his  chair  and  stood 
up  hesitantly  like  a  man  unexpectedly  called  upon 
for  an  after-dinner  speech.  He  stood  there  awk- 
•wardly  a  moment  gazing  at  Doc  Madison,  his 
tongue  slowly  circling  his  lips;  then,  with  a  gulp, 
as  though  words  to  express  his  feelings  were  ut- 
terly beyond  him,  he  turned  and  started  for  the 
door. 

Pale  Face  Harry,  as  he  rose,  shoved  out  his 
hand. 


40  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  I  don't  deserve  my  luck  to  be  in  on  this,"  he 
said  modestly.  "  Only,  Doc,  push  it  along  on  the 
high  gear,  will  you  —  I  ain't  going  to  be  able  to 
sleep  thinking  about  it."  He  looked  at  Helena 
a  little  undecidedly  —  and  compromised  on  brev- 
ity. "  'Night,  Helena,"  he  flung  out. 

"  Oh,  good-night,  Harry,"  she  smiled. 

The  Flopper  turned  at  the  door  and  came  back 
a  few  steps  into  the  room. 

"  Say,  Doc,"  he  said,  blinking  furiously, 
"  youse  can  wipe  yer  feet  on  me  any  time  yoose 
like  —  dat's  wotl  " 

"  All  right,  Flopper,"  said  Doc  Madison 
gravely.  '  When  you've  joined  Tammany  Hall 
—  good-night."  He  followed  across  the  room, 
and  from  the  doorway  watched  the  two  descend 
the  stairs.  "  Good-night,"  he  said  again,  then 
closed  the  door  and  came  back  into  the  room. 
"  Well,  Helena?  "  he  remarked  tentatively. 

"  Well  —  Garfield  ?  "—  Helena  clasped  her 
hands  around  one  knee  and  rocked  gently. 

"  Don't  be  familiar,  Helena,"  Doc  Madison 
chuckled.  "  Is  that  all  you've  got  to  say?  " 

"  I'm  busy  thinking  about  The  Great  American 
Play,"  she  said  pertly.  "  There's  one  thing  y»u 
forgot" 

"What's  that?"  he  asked,  still  smiling. 

"  The  curtain  on  the  last  act,"  she  said.  "  The 
getaway." 

Doc  Madison  shook  his  head. 

"  Nothing  doing!  "  he  returned.  '  There's  no 
getaway.  It's  safe  —  so  safe  that  there's  nothing 


A  NEW  CULT  41 

to  it.  We  don't  guarantee  anything,  and  there's 
no  entrance  fee  to  the  pavilion  —  all  contributions 
are  strictly  voluntary." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Helena.  ''But  of 
course  we  can't  really  cure  them.  We  can  get 
them  going  hard  enough  to  make  them  think  they 
are  for  awhile,  but  after  they've  thrown  away 
their  crutches  and  got  back  home  —  what  then?  " 

"Well,  what  then?"  inquired  Doc  Madison 
easily. 

"  They'll  yell '  fake !  '  and  swear  out  warrants," 
said  Helena,  her  dark  eyes  studying  Doc  Madi- 
son. 

"  Not  according  to  statistics,"  replied  Doc  Mad- 
ison, and  his  lips  twitched  quizzically  at  the  cor- 
ners. "  According  to  statistics  they'll  buy  another 
crutch  and  come  back  to  buck  the  tiger  again. 
Say,  Helena,  to-morrow,  you  go  up  to  the  public 
library  and  read  up  on  shrines  —  they've  been 
running  since  the  ark  —  and  they're  running  still. 
You  never  heard  any  howl  about  them,  did  you? 
What's  the  answer  to  those  cures?  " 

"  That's  different,"  said  Helena.  "  That's  re- 
ligion, and  they've  got  relics  and  things." 

"  It's  faith,"  said  Doc  Madison,  "  and  it  doesn't 
matter  what  the  basis  of  it  is.  Faith,  Helena, 
faith  —  get  that?  And  we're  going  to  imbue 
them  with  a  faith  that'll  set  them  crazy  and  send 
them  into  hysterics.  And  talk  about  relics  1 
Haven't  we  got  one?  Look  at  the  Patriarch! 
Can't  you  see  the  whole  town  yelling  '  I  told  you 
so !  '  and  swopping  testimonials  hard  enough  to 


42  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

crowd  the  print  down  so  fine,  if  you  tried  to  get 
it  all  into  the  papers,  that  you'd  have  to  use  a 
magnifying  glass  to  read  it,  once  we've  pulled  off 
the  miracle  ?  Don't  you  worry  about  the  getaway. 
If  there's  any  sign  of  anything  like  that,  you  and  I, 
Helena,  will  be  taking  moonlight  rides  in  the  gon- 
dolas of  Venice  long  before  it  breaks." 

Helena  choked  —  and  began  to  laugh  deli- 
ciously. 

Doc  Madison  stared  at  her  for  a  moment  whim- 
sically—  then  he,  too,  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"Oh,  Lord!"  he  gurgled.  "It's  rich,  isn't 
it?"  And  sweeping  Helena  off  the  couch  and 
into  his  arms,  he  began  to  dance  around  and 
around  the  table.  "  Ring-around-a-rosy !  "  he 
cried.  "  We  haven't  done  so  bad  in  the  misty 
past,  but  here's  where  we  cross  to  the  enchanted 
shore  and  play  on  jewelled  harps  with  golden 
strings  and  — " 

"Is  that  all?"  gasped  Helena,  laughing  and 
breathless,  as  at  last  she  pulled  herself  away. 

"  No,"  panted  Doc  Madison.  "  There's  a  ta- 
ble I've  reserved  up  at  the  Rivoli  that's  waiting 
for  us  now.  We're  about  to  part  for  days  and 
days,  lady  mine,  that's  the  tough  luck  of  it,  but 
we'll  make  a  night  of  it  to-night  anyway  — 
what?" 

"You  bet!"  said  Helena,  doing  a  cake-walk 
towards  the  door.  "  Come  on !  " 


—  Ill  — 

NEEDLEY 

"1^  T-EEDLEY?" 

^^^  It  wasn't  wholly  an  interrogation 

^^y  —  it  seemed  to  Madison  that  there 

-1*.  ^  was  even  sympathy  in  the  parlor-car 
conductor's  voice,  as  the  other  took  his  seat 
check. 

"  Health,"  said  Madison  meekly.  "  Perfect 
rest  and  quiet  —  been  overdoing  it,  you  know." 

"Needley!" — the  train  conductor  of  the  Bar 
Harbor  Express,  collecting  the  transportation, 
threw  the  word  at  Madison  as  though  it  were  a 
personal  affront. 

The  tone  seemed  to  demand  an  apology  from 
Madison  —  and  Madison  apologized. 

"  Health,"  he  said  apologetically.  "  Perfect 
rest  and  quiet  —  been  overdoing  it,  you  know." 

"  We're  five  minutes  late  now,"  grunted  the 
conductor  uncompromisingly  and,  to  Madison, 
quite  irrelevantly,  as  he  passed  on  down  the  aisle. 

Somehow,  this  inspired  Madison  to  consult  his 
timetable.  He  drew  it  from  his  pocket,  ran  his 
eye  down  the  long  list  of  stations  —  and  stopped 
at  "  Needley."  Needley  had  an  asterisk  after 
it.  By  consulting  a  block  of  small  type  at  the 

43 


44  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

bottom  of  the  page,  he  found  a  corresponding 
asterisk  with  the  words :  "  Flag  station.  Stops 
only  on  signal,  or  to  discharge  eastbound  passen- 
gers from  Portland." 

John  Garfield  Madison  went  into  the  smoking 
compartment  of  the  car  for  a  cigar  —  several  ci- 
gars —  until  Needley  was  reached  some  two  hours 
later,  when  the  dusky  attendant,  as  he  pocketed 
Madison's  dollar,  set  down  his  little  rubber-topped 
footstool  with  a  flourish  on  a  desolate  and  for- 
bidding-looking platform. 

Madison  was  neither  surprised  nor  dismayed 
• —  the  parlor-car  conductor,  the  train  conductor 
and  the  timetable  had  in  no  way  attempted  to  de- 
ceive him  —  he  was  only  cold.  He  turned  up 
his  coat  collar  —  and  blew  on  his  kid-gloved  fin- 
gers. 

As  far  as  he  could  see  everything  was  white 
with  a  thin  layer  of  snow  —  he  kicked  some  of  it 
off  his  toes  onto  the  unshovelled  platform.  The 
landscape  was  disconsolately  void  of  even  a  ves- 
tige of  life,  there  was  not  a  sign  of  habitation  — 
just  woods  of  bare  trees,  except  the  firs,  whose 
green  seemed  out  of  place. 

"  I  have  arrived,"  said  John  Garfield  Madison 
to  himself,  "  at  a  cemetery." 

There  was  a  very  small  station,  and  through  the 
window  he  caught  sight  of  a  harassed-faced,  red- 
haired  man.  There  was  a  thump,  another  one,  a 
very  vicious  one  —  and  Madison  stirred  uneasily 
* —  the  train,  with  its  five  minutes'  delinquency 
hanging  over  it,  was  already  moving  out,  as  his 


NEEDLEY  45 

trunks,  from  the  baggage  car  ahead,  shot  uncere- 
moniously to  the  platform.  Madison  watched  a 
man,  the  sole  occupant  of  the  platform  apart  from 
himself,  save  the  trunks  from  rolling  under  the 
wheels  of  the  train;  then  his  eyes  fastened  on  a 
rickety,  two-seated  wagon,  drawn  by  a  horse  that 
at  first  glance  appeared  to  earn  all  it  got. 

The  train  left  the  platform  —  and  left  quite 
as  uninviting  a  perspective  on  the  other  side  of  the 
track  as  had  previously  greeted  Madison's  re- 
stricted view.  But  now  the  man  who  had  sal- 
vaged his  baggage  came  down  the  platform  to- 
ward him.  Madison  inspected  the  approaching 
figure  with  interest.  The  man  ambled  along  with- 
out haste,  his  jaws  wagging  industriously  upon  his 
tobacco,  his  iron-gray  chin  whiskers,  from  the 
wagging,  flapping  like  a  burgee  in  a  breeze.  He 
wore  a  round  fur  cap,  quite  bare  of  fur  at  the 
edges  where  the  pelt  showed  shiny,  and  a  red 
woollen  tippet  was  tied  round  his  neck  and 
knotted  at  the  back  with  the  ends  dangling  down 
over  his  coat.  The  coat  itself,  a  long  one  of 
some  fuzzy  material,  with  huge  side  pockets  into 
which  the  man's  hands  were  plunged,  reached  to 
the  cavernous  tops  of  jackboots  where  the  nether 
ends  of  his  trousers  were  stowed  away. 

The  man  halted  before  Madison,  and,  reaching 
a  mittened  hand  under  his  chin,  reflectively  lifted 
his  whiskers  to  an  acute  angle,  while  his  blue  eyes 
over  the  rims  of  steel-bowed  spectacles  wandered 
from  Madison  to  Madison's  dress-suit  case  and 
back  to  Madison  again. 


46  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  Be  you  goin'  to  git  off  here?  "  he  inquired. 

Madison  smiled  at  him  engagingly. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  wouldn't  care  to  have  it 
known,  but  if  you  can  keep  a  secret  — " 

"  Hee-hee!  "  tittered  the  other.  "  Now  that's 
right  smart,  that  be.  Waren't  expectin'  nobody 
to  meet  you,  was  you?  I  ain't  heerd  of  none  of 
the  folks  lookin'  for  visitors." 

"  No,"  said  Madison.  "  But  there's  a  hotel  in 
the  town,  isn't  there?  " 

"  Two  of  'em,"  said  the  other.  "  The  Waal- 
derf  an'  the  Congress,  but  the  Waalderf  ain't  done 
a  sight  of  business  since  we  got  pro'bition  in  the 
State  an'  has  kinder  got  run  down.  I  reckon  the 
Congress'll  suit  you  best  if  you  ain't  against  payin' 
a  mite  more,  which  I  reckon  you  ain't  for  I  see 
you  come  down  in  the  parler  car." 

"  And  what,"  asked  Madison,  "  does  the  Con- 
gress charge?  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  "  ordinary,  it's  a  dollar 
a  day  or  five  dollars  a  week,  but  this  bein'  off  sea- 
son an'  nobody  there,  'twouldn't  surprise  me  if 
Walt  'ud  kind  of  shade  the  price  for  you  —  Waal- 
derf's  three  an'  a  half  a  week.  Them  your  duds 
up  the  platform?  I'll  drive  you  over  for  forty 
cents.  What  was  it  you  said  your  name  was?" 

"  Forty  cents  is  a  most  disinterested  offer,  and 
I  accept  it  heartily,"  said  Madison  affably.  "  And 
my  name's  Madison  —  John  Garfield  Madison, 
from  New  York." 

"  Mine's  Higgins,"  volunteered  the  other. 
"  Hiram  Higgins,  an'  I'm  postmaster  an'  town 


NEEDLEY  47 

constable  of  Needley.  An'  now,  Mr.  Madison,  I 
reckon  we'll  just  get  these  effects  of  your'n  onto 
the  wagon  an'  move  along  —  folks'll  be  gettin* 
kinder  rambunctious  for  their  mail." 

Hiram  Higgins  backed  the  democrat  around, 
roped  the  baggage  onto  the  tail-board,  picked  up 
the  hungry-looking  mail-bag  from  where  the  mail 
clerk  had  slung  it  from  the  car  to  the  platform, 
threw  it  down  in  front  of  the  dashboard,  and  got 
in  after  it.  Madison  clambered  into  the  back 
seat,  and  they  bumped  off  along  the  road. 

"  Had  a  mite  of  snow  night  before  last,"  ob- 
served Mr.  Higgins,  pointing  it  out  with  his  whip, 
as  he  settled  himself  comfortably.  "  Kinder  reck- 
oned we'd  got  rid  of  it  for  good  till  next  fall  till 
this  come  along,  but  you  can't  never  tell.  What 
was  it  you  said  brought  you  down  here,  Mr.  Madi- 
son?" 

Madison  smiled. 

"  Rest  and  quiet  —  complete  change,"  he  said. 
"  Nervous  breakdown,  according  to  the  doctors 
—  that's  what  they  always  call  it,  you  know,  when 
they  can't  find  any  other  name  for  it.  I've  been 
overdoing  it,  I  suppose." 

"  Be  that  so !  "  returned  Mr.  Higgins  sympa- 
thetically. "  I  want  to  know!  Well,  now,  that's 
too  bad !  Lookin'  for  quiet,  be  you  ?  Well,  I 
reckon  mabbe  folks  don't  scurry  around  here  quite 
so  lively  as  they  do  in  some  of  the  bigger  towns 
like  Noo  York,  but  there's  a  tolerable  lot  goin'  on 
most  every  week,  church  festivals,  an'  spellin' 
bees,  an'  such.  Folks  here  is  right  hospitable,  but 


48  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

you  ain't  in  no  way  obliged  to  join  in  if  you  don't 
feel  up  to  it.  I'll  explain  matters  to  'em,  an' — " 
Hiram  Higgins  stopped,  excitedly  gathered  reins 
and  whip  into  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  smote 
his  knee  a  resounding  whack.  "  Well,  I  swan  I  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  An'  I  never  thought  of  it  until 
this  minute!  I  reckon  you've  come  to  just  the 
right  place,  and  just  as  soon  as  you  get  settled 
you  go  right  out  an'  see  the  Patriarch  —  you  won't 
need  no  more  doctor,  an'  folks  up  your  way  won't 
know  when  you  go  back." 

"The  Patriarch?"  inquired  Madison,  with  a 
puzzled  air.  "Who  is  he?" 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  Higgins,  "  he's  —  he's  the 
Patriarch.  Been  curin'  us  folks  around  here 
longer'n  any  one  can  remember  —  just  does  it  by 
faith,  too." 

Madison  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"  I  might  juet  as  well  be  frank  wjth  you,  Mr. 
Higgins,"  he  said.  "  I've  never  taken  much  stock 
in  faith  cure  and  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Mabbe,"  suggested  Mr.  Higgins  deeply, 
"  you  ain't  had  much  experience." 

"No,"  confessed  Madison  reflectively;  "I 
haven't  —  I  haven't  had  any." 

"  WTell  then,  you  just  wait  an'  see,"  said  Mr. 
Higgins,  waving  his  mittened  hand  as  though  the 
whole  matter  were  conclusively  settled.  '  You 
just  wait  an'  see." 

"  But  I'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  understand," 
prodded  Madison  innocently.  "  What  kind  of 
cures  does  he  perform?  " 


NEEDLEY  49 

They  turned  a  right-angled  bend  in  the  road, 
disclosing  a  straggling  hamlet  in  a  hollow  below, 
and,  farther  away  in  the  distance,  a  sweep  of 
ocean. 

"  Most  any  kind,"  said  Mr.  Higgins.  "  There's 
Needley  now.  All  you've  got  to  do  is  ask  the 
first  person  you  see  about  him." 

"  Yes,"  said  Madison,  "  but  take  yourself,  for 
instance.  Did  this  Patriarch  ever  do  anything  for 
yoH?" 

u  He  did,"  said  Mr.  Higgins  impressively. 
"  An'  'twasn't  but  last  week.  I'm  glad  you  asked 
me.  For  two  nights  I  couldn't  sleep.  Had  the 
earache  powerful.  Poured  hot  oil  an'  laud'num 
into  it,  an'  kept  a  hot  brick  rolled  up  in  flannel 
against  it,  but  didn't  do  no  good.  Then  Mrs.  Hig- 
gins says,  '  Hiram,  why  in  the  land's  sake  don't 
yo»  go  out  an'  see  the  Patriarch  ?  '  An'  I  hitched 
right  up,  an'  every  step  that  horse  took  I  could 
feel  it  gettin'  better,  an'  I  wasn't  five  minutes  with 
the  Patriarch  before  I  was  cured,  an'  I  ain't  had  a 
twinge  since." 

"  It  certainly  looks  as  though  there  were  some- 
thing in  that,"  admitted  Madison  cautiously. 

Hiram  Higgins  smiled  a  world  of  tolerance. 

"  'Tain't  worth  mentionin'  alongside  some  of 
the  things  he's  done,"  he  said  deprecatingly. 
**  You'll  hear  about  'em  fast  enough." 

"  What's  the  local  doctor  say  about  it?  "  asked 
Madison. 

"  There  ain't  enough  pickin's  to  keep  a  doctor 
here,  though  some  of  'em's  tried,"  chuckled  Mr. 


Higgins.  "  Have  to  have  'em  for  some  things, 
of  course  —  an'  then  he  drives  over  from  Bar- 
ton's Mills,  seven  miles  from  here." 

"  And  do  all  the  people  in  Needley  believe  in 
the  Patriarch?" — Madison's  voice  was  full  of 
grave  Interest. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Higgins,  "  to  be  plumb  down- 
right honest  with  you,  they  don't.  Folks  as  was 
born  here  an'  are  old  inhabitants  do,  but  the 
Holmes,  bein'  newcomers,  is  kinder  set  in  their 
ways.  They  come  down  here  eight  years  ago  last 
August  with  new-fangled  notions,  which  they  ain't 
got  rid  of  yet.  You  can  see  the  consequences  for 
yourself  —  got  a  little  boy,  twelve  year  old,  walk- 
ing around  lame  on  a  crutch  —  an'  I  reckon  he 
always  will.  Doctor  looks  at  him  every  time  he 
comes  over  from  Barton's  Mills,  but  it  don't  do 
no  good.  Folks  tried  to  get  the  Holmes  to  take 
him  out  to  the  Patriarch's  till  they  got  discour- 
aged. 'Pears  old  man  Holmes  kinder  got  around 
to  a  common  sense  view  of  it,  but  the  women  folks 
say  Mrs.  Holmes  is  stubborner  than  all  git-out, 
an'  that  old  man  Holmes'  voice  ain't  loud  enough 
to  be  heerd  when  she  gets  goin'.  'Tain't  but  fair 
to  mention  'em,  as  I  dunno  of  any  one  else  that's 
-an  exception."  Mr.  Higgins  pointed  ahead  with 
his  whip.  "  See  them  woods  over  there  beyond 
the  town?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Madison. 

"  That's  where  the  Patriarch  lives,"  said  Mr. 
Higgins.  "  On  the  other  side  of  'em,  down  by 
the  seashore.  An'  here  we  be  most  home. 


NEEDLEY  51 

Folks'll  be  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Madison,  and 
now  you're  here  I  hope  you'll  make  a  real  smart 
stay  —  we'll  try  to  make  you  feel  to  home." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Madison  cordially.  "  I 
haven't  any  idea,  of  course,  how  long  I'll  be  here 
—  it  all  depends  on  circumstances." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Higgins;  "  I  don't  suppose  you 
have.  Anyway,  I  hope  you'll  take  a  notion  to 
go  out  an'  see  what  the  Patriarch  can  do  for  you. 
An'  now  you  ain't  told  me  yet  which  hotel  you're 
goin'  to." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Madison  gravely.  "  Well,  since 
you  recommend  it,  I  guess  we'd  better  make  it  the 
Congress." 


B 


—  IV  — 

THE  PATRIARCH 

44  |  ^  ET  you  a  cookie,"  shrilled  Hiram 
Higgins,  in  what  he  meant  to  be  a 
breathless  whisper,  "  that  there's 
where  he's  goin'  now  —  only  he  don't 
want  us  to  know  he's  give  in." 

"  Shet  your  fool  mouth,  Hiram!"  cautioned 
Walt  Perkins,  the  proprietor  of  the  Congress  Ho- 
tel. "  He  kin  hear  you." 

"  Get  out!  "  retorted  Mr.  Higgins.  "  No,  he 
can't  neither.  He  ain't  feelin'  no  ways  perky, 
any  one  can  see  that,  an'  I'm  tickled  most  to  pieces 
that  he's  come  'round  —  I've  took  up  with  him 
consid'rable,  I  have.  Patriarch'!!  just  make  a 
new-born  critter  outer  him  —  you  watch  through 
the  window  where  he  goes.  Bet  you  a  quarter 
that's  what  he's  up  to !  " 

John  Garfield  Madison,  outside  on  the  veranda 
of  the  Congress  Hotel,  smiled  at  the  words,  as 
he  lighted  his  cigar  and  turned  up  his  coat  collar. 
He  stepped  off  the  veranda,  crossed  the  little  lawn 
to  the  village  street,  and  began  to  saunter  non- 
chalantly and  indifferently  oceanwards.  He  did 
not  look  around  —  he  had  no  desire  to  bring  con- 
sternation to  the  massed  faces  of  the  leading  citi- 

52 


THE  PATRIARCH  53 

zens  flattened  against  the  window  panes  —  but  he 
chuckled  inwardly  as  he  pictured  them.  There 
would  be  Hiram  Higgins,  postmaster  and  town 
constable,  Walt  Perkins,  hotel  man  and  town  mod- 
erator, Lem  Hodges,  selectman,  assessor  and 
overseer  of  the  poor,  Nathan  Elmes,  likewise  se- 
lectman, assessor  and  overseer  of  the  poor,  and 
Cale  Rodgers,  school  committee-man  and  propri- 
etor of  the  general  store. 

Madison  sauntered  slowly  along. 

"  I  have  arrived,"  he  said,  "  not  at  a  cemetery, 
but  at  an  El  Dorado  and  a  land  flowing  with  milk 
and  honey." 

There  was  a  humorous  pucker  around  the  cor- 
ners of  Madison's  eyes,  as  he  reviewed  his  two 
days'  sojourn  in  Needley  —  spent  mostly  in  the 
"  office  "  of  the  Congress  Hotel  beside  the  stove 
with  his  feet  up  on  the  woodbox.  He  had  never 
lacked  company  —  the  office  stove  and  the  spit- 
box  filled  with  sawdust  was  the  admitted  rendez- 
vous of  the  chosen  spirits  who  were  still  gazing 
after  him  from  the  window.  Morning,  afternoon 
and  evening  they  congregated  there,  and  he  had 
been  promptly  admitted  to  membership  in  the 
select  circle.  At  each  sitting  they  had  discussed 
the  spring  planting  and  the  weather,  and  then 
inevitably,  led  by  Hiram  Higgins,  had  resolved 
themselves  into  an  "  experience  "  meeting  on  the 
Patriarch  —  he,  Madison,  as  a  minority  leader  of 
one,  grudgingly  conceding  an  occasional  point. 
The  sessions  had  invariably  ended  the  same  way 
—  Hiram  Higgins,  with  the  back  of  his  hand 


54  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

underneath  his  chin,  would  stroke  earnestly  at  his 
chin-whiskers,  and  remark: 

"  Well,  now,  Mr.  Madison,  'twon't  do  you  a 
mite  of  harm  to  go  out  there  an'  see  for  yourself. 
We've  kinder  got  to  look  on  you  as  one  of 
us,  an'  there  ain't  no  use  in  you  sufferin'  around 
with  what  ails  you  when  there  ain't  no  need  of 
it." 

Madison's  replies  had  been  equally  void  of  ver- 
satility —  he  would  shake  his  head  doubtfully, 
while  his  cigar-case  circulated  around  the  group. 

Madison  sniffed  luxuriously  at  his  thorough- 
bred Havana.  He  had  passed  out  of  sight  of  the 
hotel  window  now,  and  he  swung  into  a  brisk  walk. 
It  was  a  mile  to  the  Patriarch's  by  a  wagon  track 
through  the  woods,  that  led  off  from  the  road  to 
the  left  just  across  the  bridge.  He  had  not 
needed  to  ask  directions.  With  magnificent  inad- 
vertence Hiram  Higgins  had  mentioned  the  exact 
way  to  reach  the  Patriarch's  a  dozen  times,  if  he 
had  once.  Also,  by  now,  Madison  had  learned 
all  that  the  town  knew  about  the  Patriarch  — 
which  after  all,  he  reflected  with  some  satisfaction, 
wasn't  much.  Xlie  Patriarch  was  over  eighty 
years  of  age,  and  he  had  come,  deaf  and  dumb,  to 
Needley  sixty  years  ago  —  nobody  knew  from 
where,  nor  his  previous  history,  nor  his  name. 
They  had  called  him  the  Hermit  at  first,  for  hn- 
mediately  on  his  arrival  he  had  gone  out  to  the 
shore  of  the  ocean,  away  from  the  village,  and 
built  a  crude  hut  there  for  himself  —  which,  in  the 
after  years,  he  had  made  into  a  more  pretentious 


THE  PATRIARCH  55 

dwelling.  The  cures  had  come  "  kinder  gradual- 
like  an'  took  the  folks  mabbe  forty  years  to  get 
around  to  believin'  in  him  real  serious,"  as  Hiram 
Higgins  put  it;  and  then,  as  the  Hermit  grew  old, 
and  the  local  reverence  for  him  had  become  more 
deep-seated,  they  had  changed  his  name  to  the 
Patriarch.  That  was  about  all  —  but  it  seemed 
to  suit  Madison,  for  his  smile  broadened. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  he  to  himself,  as  he  stepped 
onto  the  bridge  to  cross  the  little  river,  "  if  I'm 
not  dreaming  —  this  is  like  being  let  loose  in  the 
U.  S.  Treasury  with  nobody  looking!  " 

"Hullo,  mister!"  piped  a  young  voice  sud- 
denly out  of  the  dusk. 

"  Hullo !  "  responded  Madison  mechanically  — 
and  turned  to  watch  a  small  figure,  going  in  the 
opposite  direction,  thump  by  him  on  a  crutch. 
Madison  stopped  and  stared  after  the  cripple  — 
and  removed  his  cigar  very  slowly  from  his  lips. 
"  That's  that  Holmes  boy,"  he  muttered.  "  I 
don't  know  as  he'd  look  well  on  the  platform  when 
the  excursion  trains  get  to  running.  Wonder  if 
I  can't  get  a  job  for  his  father  somewhere  about 
a  thousand  miles  from  here  and  have  the  family 
move!  " 

The  cripple  disappeared  down  the  road,  and 
Madison,  with  a  sort  of  speculative  flip  to  the 
ash  of  his  cigar,  resumed  his  way.  Just  across 
the  bridge  he  found  the  wagon  track,  and  turned 
into  it.  It  ran  through  a  thick  wood  of  fir  and 
spruce,  and  here,  apart  from  now  being  able  to 
see  but  little  before  him  —  he  had  elected  to 


56  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  steal  "  away  in  the  darkness  after  supper  —  le 
found  the  going  far  from  good. 

Half  curiously,  half  whimsically,  he  tried  to 
visualize  the  Patriarch  from  the  word  pictures 
that  had  been  painted  around  the  stove  in  the  hotel 
office.  The  man  would  be  old  —  of  course. 
And  to  have  lived  alone  for  sixty  years,  to  have 
shunned  human  companionship  he  must  have  been 
either  mildly  or  violently  insane  to  begin  with, 
which  would  account  for  his  belief  in  himself  as  a 
healer  —  he  would  unquestionably,  in  some  form 
or  other,  "  have  bats  in  his  belfry,"  as  Pale  Face 
Harry  had  put  it. 

Madison's  brows  contracted  as  he  went  along. 
A  man  living  by  himself  under  such  conditions, 
with  no  incentive  for  the  care  of  his  person,  not 
even  the  pride  engendered  by  the  association  of 
others,  erudite  as  the  standard  might  be  in  his 
vicinity,  was  apt  to  grow  very  shortly  into  a  some- 
what sorry  spectacle.  Give  him  sixty  years  of  this 
and  add  an  unbalanced  mind,  and  —  Madison  did 
not  like  the  picture  that  now  rose  up  suddenly 
before  him  —  a  creature,  bent,  vapid  of  face,  deaf 
and  dumb,  frowsy  of  dress,  and  a  world  removed 
from  the  thought  of  a  morning  bath.  It  might 
be  picturesque  in  a  way  —  but  it  wasn't  a  way 
Madison  liked.  Somehow,  he'd  have  to  jerk  the 
old  chap  out  of  his  rut  and  get  him  rigged  up  a 
little  more  becomingly,  before  the  trusting  public, 
simple  as  they  were,  were  invited  down  to  see 
the  exhibit.  Madison's  dramatic  instinct,  which 
was  developed  to  a  keen  sense  of  what  the  public 


THE  PATRIARCH  57 

craved  for,  rebelled  against  any  faux  pas  in  the 
scenic  effects.  He  fell  to  designing  a  costume  that 
would  more  appropriately  expound  the  role. 

"  Got  to  give  'em  something  for  their  money," 
murmured  John  Garfield  Madison.  "  Some  sort 
of  long,  flowing  robe  now,  washed  every  day,  sort 
of  Grecian  effect  with  a  rope  girdle,  bare  feet  and 
sandals  —  um-m  —  dunno  about  the  sandals  — 
don't  want  to  slop  over,  and  besides  " —  Madison 
grinned  a  little  to  himself  — "  he  might  kick !  " 

Still  reflecting,  but  arrived  at  no  conclusion 
other  than  first  to  size  up  the  Patriarch  and  see 
how  best  to  handle  him,  Madison  reached  the  end 
of  the  wagon  track  —  and  halted. 

It  was  a  little  lighter  here,  now  that  he  had  left 
the  woods,  and  what  appeared  to  be  a  sweep  of 
snow-covered  lawn  was  before  him.  Around  this, 
forming  a  perfect  square,  was  a  row  of  full-grown, 
magnificent  maples  —  a  regal  hedge,  as  it  were, 
bordering  the  four  sides  —  planted  sixty  years 
ago  !  Madison's  imagination  fired  exhilarantly  at 
the  inspiring  thought  of  these  in  leaf  —  in  another 
few  weeks.  He  shook  hands  with  himself  cor- 
dially. 

"  Behold  the  amphitheater!  "  he  said.  "  This 
is  where  we  stage  the  greatest  act  of  the  cen- 
tury!" 

Behind  the  row  of  trees,  directly  across  the 
lawn  in  front  of  him,  loomed  the  dark  shadow  of 
a  long,  low,  cottage-like  building,  and  from  a  win- 
dow a  light  twinkled  out  between  the  tree  trunks; 
while  from  beyond  again  came  the  roll  of  surf, 


5  8  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

low,  rhythmic,  like  the  soft  accompaniment  of 
orchestral  music. 

"  Wonderful !  "  breathed  Madison.  "  I  feel," 
said  he,  "  as  though  I  had  just  had  a  drink  1  " 

He  walked  across  the  lawn,  passed  between  the 
trees,  and  reached  the  end  of  the  cottage  away 
from  where  the  light  showed  in  the  window. 

"  The  Patriarch  being  deaf,"  he  remarked,  "  I 
might  as  well  explore." 

From  the  row  of  trees  to  the  cottage  was  per- 
haps twenty  feet.  The  door  of  the  cottage, 
porticoed  with  trellis-work,  was  in  the  center  of 
the  cottage  itself.  Everywhere  Madison  turned 
were  trellis-work  frames  for  flowers  —  the  walls 
of  the  cottage  were  covered,  literally  covered,  with 
bare,  slumbering  shoots  of  Virginia  creeper.  In 
a  little  while  now  the  place  would  be  a  veritable 
paradise.  Madison  raised  his  hat  reverently. 

"  Fancy  this  on  a  New  York  stage !  "  said  he 
esthetically,  invoking  the  universe.  "  Could  you 
beat  it!  I  could  play  the  Patriarch  myself  with 
this  setting,  and  everybody  would  fall  for  it. 
There's  nothing  to  it,  nothing  to  it,  but  his 
make-up  — •  and  I'll  guarantee  to  take  care  of  that. 
And  now  we'll  have  a  look  at  Aladdin's  lamp  and 
see  just  what  kind  of  rubbing  up  will  invoke  the 
genii !  " 

Madison  walked  along  the  length  of  the  cot- 
tage, past  the  door,  and,  as  he  reached  the  lighted 
window,  drew  well  away  from  the  wall  —  and 
stared  inside.  Surprise  and  incredulity  swept 
across  his  features,  and  then  his  face  beamed  and 


THE  PATRIARCH  59 

his  gray  eyes  lighted  with  the  fire  of  an  artist  who 
sees  the  elusive  imagery  of  the  Great  Picture  at 
last  transferred  to  canvas,  vivid,  actual,  transcend- 
ing his  wildest  hopes.  He  was  gazing  upon  the 
sweetest  and  most  venerable  face  he  had  ever 
seen. 

Here  and  there  within  upon  the  floor  were 
strewn  old-fashioned,  round  rag  mats  that  would 
enrapture  a  connoisseur,  and  the  floor  where  it 
showed  between  the  mats  was  scrubbed  to  a  glis- 
tening white.  The  furnishings  were  few  and 
homemade,  but  full  of  simple  artistry  —  a  chair 
or  two,  and  a  table,  upon  which  burned  a  lamp. 
In  a  fireplace,  made  of  stones  cemented  together, 
the  natural  effect  unspoiled  by  any  attempt  to  hew 
the  stones  into  uniformity,  a  log  fire  glowed,  sput- 
tered, and  now  and  then  leaped  cheerily  into  flame. 

Between  the  table  and  the  fire,  half  turned  to- 
ward Madison,  sat  the  Patriarch.  He  was  read- 
ing, his  head  bent  forward,  his  book  held  very 
close  to  his  eyes.  Hair,  a  wealth  of  it,  soft,  silky 
and  snow-white,  reached  just  below  his  coat  col- 
lar —  a  silvery  beard  fell  far  below  his  book. 
But  it  was  the  face  itself,  no  single  distinguishing 
feature,  neither  the  blue  eyes,  the  sensitive  lips, 
nor  the  broad,  fine  forehead,  that  held  Madison's 
gaze  —  it  seemed  to  combine  something  that  he 
had  never  seen  in  a  face  before,  and  to  look  upon 
it  was  to  be  drawn  instantly  to  the  man  —  there 
was  purity  of  thought  and  act  stamped  upon  it 
with  a  seal  ineffaceable,  and  there  was  gentleness 
there,  and  sympathy,  and  trust,  and  a  simple,  un- 


60  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

assuming  dignity  and  self-possession  —  and,  too, 
there  was  a  shadow  there,  a  little  of  sadness,  a 
little  of  weariness,  a  background,  a  relief,  as  it 
were,  a  touch  such  as  a  genius  might  conceive  to 
lift  the  picture  with  his  brush  into  wondrous,  lin- 
gering, haunting  consonance. 

Madison's  eyes,  slowly,  as  though  loath  to 
leave  the  Patriarch's  face,  travelled  over  the  gray 
homespun  suit  that  clothed  the  man,  the  white 
wristbands  of  the  home-washed  shirt,  unstarched, 
but  spotlessly  clean  —  and  his  fancy  of  flowing, 
Grecian  robes  with  rope  girdles  seemed  to  hold 
him  up  to  mockery  as  a  crude  and  paltry  bungler 
before  the  perfect,  unostentatious  harmony  of  re- 
aHty. 

''  There's  nothing  to  it !  "  whispered  Madison 
softly  to  himself.  "  Nothing  to  it!  There  isn't 
a  thing  left  to  do  —  not  even  a  chance  of  making 
a  bluff  at  earning  the  money  —  it's  just  like  steal- 
ing it.  Why,  say,  it  would  get  me  if  I  weren't 
behind  the  scenes  —  honest  now,  it  would !  " 

Madison  drew  back  from  the  window  and 
walked  toward  the  door  of  the  cottage. 

"  It  should  take  me  about  fifteen  minutes  to 
establish  myself  on  the  basis  of  a  long-lost  son 
with  the  Patriarch  clinging  confidingly  around  my 
neck,"  he  observed.  "  If  it  takes  me  any  longer 
than  that  I'd  feel  depressed  every  time  I  met  my- 
self in  the  looking-glass." 

He  reached  the  cottage  door,  and,  lifting  the 
brass  knocker  that  shone  dimly  in  the  darkness, 


THE  PATRIARCH  61 

knocked  once,  lifted  it  to  knock  again  —  and  his 
hand  fell  away  as  he  smiled  a  little  foolishly. 

'  I  forgot  the  Patriarch  was  deaf,"  he  mut- 
tered. "  Wonder  what  you're  supposed  to  do  ? 
Walk  right  in,  or  — " 

The  door  swung  suddenly  wide  open,  and  upon 
Madison's  face,  usually  so  perfectly  at  its  owner's 
control,  came  a  look  of  stunned  surprise.  The 
Patriarch  was  standing  on  the  threshold,  and,  with 
a  gesture  of  welcome,  was  motioning  him  to  enter. 


y 

A   STRANGE    CONVERSATION 

MADISON,  quite  in  command  of  him- 
self again  in  an  instant,  stepped, 
smiling,  into  the  cottage.  He  took 
the  Patriarch's  extended  hand  in  a 
cordial  grip  and  nodded  understandingly  as  the 
other,  with  quick,  rapid  motions,  touched  lips  and 
ears  to  signify  that  he  could  neither  hear  nor 
speak.  But,  inwardly  puzzled,  Madison  searched 
the  Patriarch's  face  —  was  the  other  playing  a 
part?  Could  he  hear,  after  all  —  and  perhaps 
speak  as  well,  if  he  wanted  to !  There  was  cer- 
tainly no  guile  in  the  venerable,  gentle  face  —  or 
was  it  guile  of  a  very  high  order? 

The  Patriarch  closed  the  door,  and  drawing  his 
own  armchair  to  the  table  offered  it  to  Madison 
with  a  courteous  smile. 

Madison  refused  by  gently  forcing  the  old  man 
into  it  himself,  pulled  another  up  to  face  the  Pa- 
triarch, sat  down  —  and  his  eyes  fixed  suddenly 
on  the  ceiling  above  his  head.  Swaying  slowly 
back  and  forth  was  a  sort  of  miniature  punkah  of 
waving  white  canvas.  He  studied  this  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  his  eyes  shifted  to  the  Patriarch,  who 
was  regarding  him  humorously. 

The  Patriarch  rose  from  his  chair,  walked  to 


A  STRANGE  CONVERSATION       63 

the  door,  opened  it,  moved  the  knocker  up  and 
down  —  and  pointed  to  the  ceiling.  The  canvas 
was  waving  violently  now,  and  Madison  traced 
the  cord  attachment,  on  little  pulleys,  across  the 
ceiling  to  where  it  ran  through  the  door  and  was 
affixed  to  the  knocker  without.  It  was  very  sim- 
ple, even  primitive  • —  every  time  the  knocker  was 
lifted  the  cord  was  pulled  and  the  canvas  waved 
back  and  forth.  Madison  nodded  his  head  and 
smiled  approvingly,  as  the  Patriarch  once  more 
closed  the  door  and  resumed  his  seat. 

Madison  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  allowed 
his  eyes  to  stray,  not  impertinently  but  with 
pleased  endorsement,  around  the  room,  to  permit 
an  unhampered  opportunity  for  the  scrutiny  of  the 
blue  eyes  which  he  felt  upon  him. 

"  And  to  think,"  he  mused  reproachfully,  "  that 
I  could  have  doubted  him  for  a  single  instant — > 
he  certainly  hung  one  on  me  that  time." 

The  Patriarch  reached  into  the  drawer  of  the 
table  beside  him,  took  out  a  slate  and  pencil, 
scratched  a  few  words  on  the  slate  and  handed 
both  pencil  and  slate  to  Madison. 

"Your  name  is  Madison,  isn't  it?"  Madison 
read.  "  From  New  York?  Hiram  told  me 
about  you." 

"  Hiram,"  said  Madison  to  himself,  "  is  a  man 
of  many  parts,  and  the  most  useful  man  I  have 
ever  known.  Hiram,  by  reflected  glory,  will 
some  day  become  famous."  On  the  slate  he  re- 
plied: "  Yes ;  that  is  my  name  —  John  Madison- 
It  was  good  of  Mr.  Higgins  to  speak  of  me." 


64  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

The  Patriarch  held  the  slate  within  a  bare  inch 
or  two  of  his  face,  and  moved  it  back  and  forth 
before  his  eyes  to  follow  the  lines.  As  he  low- 
ered it,  Madison  reached  for  it  politely. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  do  not  see  very  well,"  he 
scribbled.  "  Shall  I  write  larger?" 

Again  the  Patriarch  deciphered  the  words  la- 
boriously; then  he  wrote,  and  handed  the  slate  to 
Madison. 

"  I  am  going  blind,"  he  had  written.  "  Please 
write  as  large  as  possible." 

"  Blind!  " — Madison's  attitude  and  expression 
were  eloquent  enough  not  only  to  be  a  perfect  in- 
terpretation of  his  exclamation,  but  to  convey  his 
shocked  and  pained  surprise  as  well. 

The  Patriarch  bowed  his  head  affirmatively, 
smiling  a  little  wistfully. 

Madison  impetuously  drew  his  chair  closer 
to  the  other,  laid  his  hand  sympathetically  upon 
the  Patriarch's  sleeve,  and,  with  the  slate 
upon  his  knee,  wrote  with  the  other  hand  impul- 
sively : 

"  I  am  sorry  —  very,  very  sorry.  Would  you 
care  to  tell  me  about  it?  " 

The  Patriarch's  face  lighted  up  while  reading 
the  slate,  but  he  shook  his  head  slowly  as  he  smiled 
again. 

"  By  and  by,  if  you  wish,"  he  wrote.  "  But 
first  about  yourself.  You  are  sick  —  and  you 
have  come  to  me  for  help  ?  " 

The  slate  now  passed  from  hand  to  hand  quite 
rapidly. 


A  STRANGE  CONVERSATION       65 

"  Yes,"  wrote  Madison.  "  Can  you  cure 
me?" 

"No,"  replied  the  Patriarch;  "not  in  your 
present  mental  condition." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  asked  Madison. 

"  Your  question  itself  implies  that  you  are  skep- 
tical. While  that  state  of  mind  exists,  I  can  do 
nothing  —  it  depends  entirely  on  yourself." 

"And  if  I  put  skepticism  aside?"  Madison's 
pencil  demanded.  "  Can  you  cure  me  then?  " 

"  Unquestionably,"  wrote  the  Patriarch,  "  if 
you  really  put  it  aside.  Faith  is  the  simplest 
thing  in  the  world  and  the  most  complex  —  but  it 
is  fundamental.  Without  faith  nothing  is  possi- 
ble; with  faith  nothing  is  impossible." 

Madison's  gray  eyes  rested,  magnificently 
thoughtful  and  troubled,  upon  the  Patriarch. 

"  I  have  never  thought  much  about  it,"  he  re- 
plied upon  the  slate,  after  a  tactful  moment's 
pause.  "  But  I  believe  that.  There  is  something 
here,  about  the  place,  about  you  that  inspires  con- 
fidence —  I  was  prepared  to  cling  to  my  skepticism 
when  I  came  in,  but  I  do  not  feel  that  way  now. 
If  only  I  knew  you  a  little  better,  were  with  you  a 
little  more,  I  believe  I  could  have  the  faith  you 
speak  of." 

"How  long  do  you  remain  in  Needley?"  the 
Patriarch  wrote. 

'Madison  got  up  from  his  chair,  went  slowly  to 
the  fireplace,  and,  with  his  back  to  the  Patriarch, 
stood  watching  the  crackling  logs. 

"  The  old  chap's  no  fool,"  he  informed  himself, 


66  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  even  if  he  is  gone  a  little  in  one  particular.  He 
certainly  does  believe  in  himself  for  fair!  Won- 
der where  he  got  his  education  —  notice  the  Eng- 
lish he  writes?  And,  say  —  going  blind!  Fancy 
that!  Santa  Claus,  you  overwhelm  me,  you  are 
too  bountiful,  you  are  too  generous  —  you'll  have 
nothing  left  for  the  next  chimney!  Deaf  and 
dumb  —  and  blind.  Really,  I  do  not  deserve  this 
—  I  really  don't  —  let  me  at  least  tip  the  hat-boy, 
or  I'll  feel  mean." 

He  turned  gravely  to  the  Patriarch;  resuming 
his  chair  with  an  expression  on  his  face  as  one  ar- 
rived at  a  weighty  decision  after  a  mental  battle 
with  one's  self. 

"  I  will  stay  here  until  I  am  cured.  I  put  my- 
self in  your  hands.  What  am  I  to  do?  "  he  wrote 
quickly  —  and  held  out  his  hand  almost  anxiously 
for  the  other's  assent. 

The  Patriarch  smiled  seriously  as,  after  peer- 
ing at  the  slate,  he  took  the  outstretched  hand  and 
laid  his  other  one  unaffectedly  upon  Madison's 
shoulder. 

"  Be  sure  then  that  I  can  help  you,"  wrote  the 
Patriarch  cheerfully.  "  There  is  no  course  of 
treatment  such  as  you  may,  perhaps,  imagine. 
»My  power  lies  in  a  perfect  faith  to  help  you  once 
'you,  in  turn,  have  faith  yourself  —  that  is  all.  It 
is  but  the  practical  application  of  the  old  dogma 
that  mind  is  superior  to  matter.  You  must  come 
and  see  me  every  day,  and  we  will  talk  together." 

"  I  will  come  —  gladly,"  Madison  replied;  and, 
taking  the  slate,  carefully  wiped  off  the  writing  — 


A  STRANGE  CONVERSATION       67 

as  he  had  previously  wiped  it  off  every  time  it 
came  into  his  hands  —  with  a  damp  rag  that  the 
Patriarch  had  taken  from  the  table  drawer  when 
he  had  produced  the  slate  and  pencil. 

;'  This  slate  racket  is  the  limit,"  said  Madison  I 
to  himself,  as  his  pencil  began  to  move  and  screech! 
again;  "but  I've  got  to  get  a  little  deeper  under 
his  vest  yet." 

He  handed  the  slate  to  the  Patriarch,  and  on  it 
were  the  words: 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  something  of  yourself,  how 
you  came  to  live  here  alone,  and  your  name,  per- 
haps? I  do  not  mean  to  presume,  but  I  am 
deeply  interested." 

'  There  is  never  presumption  in  kindliness  and 
sympathy,"  answered  the  Patriarch.  "  But  my; 
name  and  story  is  buried  in  the  past  —  perhaps 
when  I  am  gone  those  who  care  to  know  may 
know.  I  have  not  hurt  you  by  refusing  to  an- 
swer? " 

"  No,  indeed!  "  said  Madison  politely  to  him- 
self. "  The  element  of  mystery  is  one  of  the  best 
drawing  cards  I  know  —  it's  got  Needley  going 
strong.  Far,  far  be  it  from  me  to  tear  the  veil 
asunder.  I  mentioned  it  only  as  a  feeler." 

But  upon  the  slate  he  wrote : 

"  Far  from  being  hurt,  I  respect  your  silence/ 
But  your  eyes  —  you  were  to  tell  me  about  them." 

The  Patriarch's  face  saddened  suddenly  as  he 
read  the  words. 

"  I  have  made  no  secret  of  it,"  he  wrote.  "  I 
have  been  going  blind  for  nearly  a  year  now.  The 


68  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

end,  I  am  afraid,  is  very  near  —  within  a  few  days, 
perhaps  even  to-morrow.  I  think  I  should  not  mind 
it  much  myself,  for  I  am  very  old  and  have  not  a 
great  while  longer  to  live  in  any  case,  but  for  the 
time  that  is  left  it  will  mar  my  usefulness.  I  have 
been  able  to  help  the  people  here  and  they  have 
come  to  depend  upon  me  —  that  is  my  life.  I 
trust  I  am  not  boastful  if  I  say  my  greatest  joy 
has  been  in  helping  others." 

He  had  come  to  the  bottom  of  the  slate  and 
held  it  out  for  Madison  to  read;  then  wiped  it  off, 
and  went  on : 

"  I  have  dreamed  often  of  a  wider  field,  of 
reaching  out  to  help  the  thousands  beyond  this 
little  town  —  but  I  have  realized  that  it  could  be 
no  more  than  a  dream.  I  have  been  successful 
here  because  the  people  believe  in  me  and  have 
unquestioning  faith  in  me  —  to  go  outside 
amongst  strangers  would  only  have  been  to  be  re- 
ceived as  a  charlatan  and  faker,  or  as  a  poor  deaf 
and  dumb  fool  at  best." 

Madison  took  the  slate. 

"  But  if  these  thousands  of  others  came  to  you 
—  what  then?" 

The  Patriarch's  face  glowed. 

"  It  would  be  a  wondrous  joy,"  he  wrote. 
"  Too  wondrous  to  dwell  upon  —  because  it  could 
never  be.  If  they  came  I  could  help  them,  for 
their  very  coming  would  be  an  evidence  of  faith  — 
and  faith  alone  is  necessary.  Think  of  the  joy  of 
helping  so  many  others  —  it  is  the  fulness  of  life. 
But  let  us  not  dream  any  more,  friend  Madison." 


A  STRANGE  CONVERSATION       69 

"  Of  course,"  communed  Madison,  studying 
the  illumined  face,  "  he's  slightly  touched  in  his 
upper  story  on  the  faith  stunt;  but  he's  in  dead 
earnest,  and  he's  got  the  brotherhood-of-man  bug 
bad.  Come  to  think  of  it,  Hiram  did  say  some- 
thing about  his  '  sight  failing,'  but  I  didn't  think 
it  was  anything  like  this.  If  he's  going  to  go  fi- 
nally blind  in,  say,  a  week,  perhaps  it  would  be 
just  as  well  to  postpone  the  opening  night  until  he 
does." 

Madison  took  the  slate. 

"  Stranger  things  than  that  have  happened,"  he 
wrote.  "  I  never  heard  of  you  before,  yet  I  am 
one  of  the  thousands  beyond  this  little  town  and 
I  am  here  —  why  not  the  others?  " 

The  Patriarch  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  It  is  but  a  dream,"  he  wrote. 

Madison  held  the  slate  in  his  hands  for  quite  a 
long  time  before  he  wrote  again;  his  attitude  one 
of  sympathetic  hesitancy  as  his  eyes  played  over 
the  form  and  face  before  him,  while  the  Patriarch 
smiled  at  him  with  gentle,  patient  resignation. 
Back  in  Madison's  fertile  brain  the  germ  of  an  in- 
spiration was  developing  into  fuller  life. 

"  What  will  you  do  here  alone  when  you  are 
blind?"  he  asked — •  and  his  face  was  disturbed 
and  solicitous  as  he  passed  the  Patriarch  the  slate. 

"  I  need  very  little,"  the  Patriarch  wrote  back. 
"  You  must  not  worry  about  me.  My  garden 
supplies  nearly  all  my  wants,  and  there  are  many 
in  the  village,  I  am  sure,  who  will  help  me  with 
that  when  the  snow  is  gone." 


,70 

"  I  am  quite  certain  of  that,"  Madison's  pencil 
agreed.  "  But  here  in  the  house  you  cannot  be 
alone  —  there  are  so  many  things  to  do,  little 
things  that  I  am  sure  you  have  not  thought  of  — 
some  one  must  cook  for  you,  for  instance.  You 
will  need  a  woman's  hand  here  —  have  you  no 
one,  no  relative  that  you  can  call  upon?  " 

The  Patriarch  lowered  the  slate  from  his  eyes, 
shook  his  head  a  little  pathetically,  and  began  to 
write. 

"  I  do  not  think  they  would  have  cared  to  come, 
even  if  they  were  still  alive;  but  they  are  all  gone 
many  years  ago  —  except  perhaps  a  grand-niece, 
and  I  do  not  know  what  has  become  of  her." 

'  Why,  that's  just  the  thing,"  wrote  Madison. 
"  Suppose  we  try  to  find  her?  " 

Again  the  Patriarch  shook  his  head. 

*"  I  am  afraid  that  would  be  impossible.  I  do 
not  even  know  that  she  is  alive.  I  know  only 
of  her  birth,  and  that  is  twenty  years  ago." 

"  Even  that  is  not  hopeless,"  wrote  Madison 
optimistically,  and  his  face  as  he  looked  at  the  Pa- 
triarch was  seriously  thoughtful.  "  Where  was 
she  born?  " 

"  New  York,"  the  Patriarch  answered. 

"  And  I  never  half  appreciated  the  old  town 
nor  the  fulness  thereof  until  I  came  to  Needley !  " 
said  Madison  plaintively  to  the  toe  of  his  boot, 
while  his  hand  scrawled  the  inquiry:  "What  is 
her  name?  " 

'  Vail,"  wrote  the  Patriarch.  "  That  was  her 
father's  name.  She  is  my  grand-niece  on  her 


A  STRANGE  CONVERSATION       71 

mother's  side.  I  do  not  know  what  they  chris- 
tened her." 

Madison  once  more,  apparently  deep  in 
thought,  sought  refuge  at  the  fireplace,  his  hands 
plunged  in  his  pockets,  his  shoulders  drawn  a  lit- 
tle forward,  his  back  to  the  Patriarch. 

"  Fiction,"  he  assured  a  crack  in  the  cement  be- 
tween two  stones,  "  was  never,  never  like  this. 
It  seems  to  me  that  I  remember  the  occurrence.  It 
had  grown  a  little  dim  with  the  lapse  of  time,  it 
is  true;  but  now  that  I  recall  it,  it  comes  back  with 
remarkable  clearness.  I  am  quite  sure  they  chris- 
tened her  —  Helena.  Helena  Vail!  Now  isn't 
that  a  perfectly  lovely  name  for  a  novel!  And 
she'll  be  so  good  to  the  dear  old  chap  too  —  wash- 
ing and  ironing  and  cooking  for  him  —  and  steal- 
ing out  into  the  woodshed  for  a  drag  on  her  cig- 
arette —  not.  No,  my  dear,  not  even  that  — 
this  is  serious  business." 

He  turned,  came  back  to  his  chair,  picked  up 
the  slate,  and  wrote : 

"  I  have  the  fortune,  or  misfortune  perhaps,  to 
be  what  is  commonly  called  a  rich  man.  Money, 
they  say,  will  do  anything,  and  if  it  will  I'll  find 
this  niece  for  you." 

The  Patriarch's  eyes  grew  moist  as  he  read  the 
words,  and  his  hand  trembled  a  little  with  emotion 
as  he  held  the  pencil. 

"  I  cannot  let  you  do  that,"  he  protested. 
'  You  are  very  kind,  and  it  seems  almost  as 
though  you  had  been  brought  to  me  providen- 
tially *t  the  end  of  long  years  of  loneliness  for  a 


72  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

purpose,  when  my  hour  of  helplessness  was  near; 
but,  indeed,  I  have  no  right  to  allow  you  to  do 
this." 

"  They  tell  me  in  the  village,"  wrote  Madison 
in  reply,  "  that  you  have  always  refused  to  accept 
a  penny  for  anything  you  have  ever  done  for  them. 
I  have  no  doubt  you  would  equally  refuse  to  ac- 
cept anything  from  me  for  what  you  may  do,  and 
I  should  hesitate  to  offer  it  however  much  I  felt 
indebted,  but  this  is  something  that  you  must  let 
me  do.  It  will  make  me  feel  more  —  how  shall 
I  say  it?  —  more  as  though  I  had  a  right  to  the 
privilege  of  coming  here." 

The  Patriarch  wiped  his  still  moist  eyes  before 
he  answered. 

'What  can  I  say  to  you?  It  does  not  seem 
right  that  I  should  let  a  stranger  do  so  much,  and 
yet  it  seems  that  I  should  not  say  no  because  — " 

Madison  was  bending  over  the  slate,  reading 
as  the  other  wrote,  and  he  took  the  pencil  gently 
from  the  Patriarch's  hand. 

"  You  must  not  look  on  me  any  longer  as  a 
stranger,"  he  wrote.  "  Let  us  just  consider  that 
it  is  all  arranged  —  only  I  would  strongly  advise 
making  no  mention  of  it  until  we  make  sure  that 
she  is  alive." 

"  I  think  nothing  should  be  said,"  agreed  the 
Patriarch.  "  For  even  if  you  found  her  she  might 
not  care  to  come  —  I  have  little  here  to  offer  a 
young  girl  —  few  comforts  —  the  care  of  a  blind 
man  who  is  deaf  and  dumb." 

"  We'll  see  about  that  when  we  find  her  " — 


A  STRANGE  CONVERSATION       73 

Madison  smiled  brightly  at  the  Patriarch,  as  he 
wrote.  "  Now  that's  settled  for  the  time  being, 
isn't  it?" 

The  dumb  lips  moved  and  both  hands  reached 
out  to  Madison. 

Madison  took  them  in  a  firm,  strong,  reassuring 
clasp,  then  shook  his  finger  in  a  sort  of  playfully 
emotional  embarrassment,  excellently  well  done, 
at  the  Patriarch  —  and  picked  up  the  slate  again. 

"  It  is  getting  late,"  he  wrote,  "  and  I  must  not 
tire  you  out.  I  am  afraid  you  will  think  I  am  far 
more  inquisitive  than  I  have  any  right  to  be,  but 
there  is  one  more  question  that  I  would  like  to  ask 
—  may  I?"  ' 

The  Patriarch  nodded  his  head,  and  laid  his 
hand  on  Madison's  sleeve  in  a  quaint,  almost  af- 
fectionate way. 

"  It  is  about  your  education.  You  came  here 
sixty  years  ago,  and  you  have  lived  alone.  You 
could  have  had  but  few  advantages,  with  your 
handicap,  previous  to  that,  and  yet  you  write  and 
use  such  perfect  English." 

"  The  answer  is  very  simple,"  replied  the  Pa- 
triarch on  the  slate.  "  Until  within  the  last  year, 
I  have  read  largely.  Would  you  care  to  look  at 
my  books?  They  are  there  in  the  nook  on  the 
other  side  of  the  fireplace." 

Madison,  promptly  and  full  of  interest,  rose 
from  his  chair,  passed  around  the  fireplace,  and 
halted  before  a  row  of  shelves  set  in  against  the 
wall. 

"  I  pass,"  Madison  admitted  to  himself  after  a 


74  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

moment,  during  which  his  eyes  roved  over  the 
well  chosen  classics.  "  I've  heard  of  one  or  two 
of  these  before  —  casually.  I've  an  idea  that  if 
the  Patriarch's  got  all  this  inside  his  gray  mat- 
ter, it's  just  as  well  for  the  Flopper,  for  Pale  Face 
Harry,  hr  Helena  and  yours  truly  that  he's  deaf 
and  dumb  —  and  will  be  blind." 

Madison  came  back  to  the  Patriarch  with  beam- 
ing face,  and  picked  up  the  slate. 

"  I  read  a  great  deal  myself,"  he  wrote.  "  It 
is  a  pleasure  to  find  real  books  here.  May  I,  dur- 
ing my  stay  in  Needley,  look  upon  them  in  a  little 
way  as  my  own  library?  " 

"  You  are  vtry  welcome  indeed,"  the  Patriarch 
answered. 

"  Thank  you,vr*  wrote  Madison.  "  And  now, 
surely,  I  must  go  w- —  he  smiled  at  the  Patriarch. 

"  Come  to-morrow,"  invited  the  Patriarch.  "  I 
would  like  to  show  you  all  around  my  little  place 
here." 

"  Indeed,  I  will,"  Madison  scratched  upon  the 
slate,  "  and  do  you  know  that  somehow,  since  I 
came  here  to-night,  I  feel  a  sense  of  relief,  a  sort 
of  guarantee  that  everything  is  going  to  be  all 
right  with  me  in  the  future." 

The  Patriarch  smiled  quietly,  almost  tolerantly. 

"  I  know  that,"  he  wrote.  "  Keep  your  mind 
free  of  doubt,  be  optimistic  and  cheerful  as  re- 
gards yourself,  nourish  the  faith  that  has  already 
taken  root  and  that  I  feel  responds  to  mine ;  keep 
in  the  open  air  and  take  plenty  of  exercise." 
Slowly,  with  an  apparently  abstracted  air,  Mad- 


A  STRANGE  CONVERSATION       7^ 

ison  read  the  slate,  wiped  it  carefully,  laid  it  down, 
and  then  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Good-night !  "  he  nodded  warmly. 

The  Patriarch,  still  with  the  quiet  smile  upon 
his  lips,  rose  from  his  armchair,  and,  keeping  his 
clasp  on  Madison's  hand,  led  Madison  to  the 
door,  opened  it,  and  with  a  gesture  at  once  courtly 
and  affectionate  bade  his  guest  good-night. 

Madison  crossed  the  lawn  at  a  thoughtful  pace, 
turned  into  the  wagon  track,  and,  in  the  shelter  of 
the  woods  now,  whimsically  felt  his  pulse;  then, 
lighting  a  cigar,  tramped  on  with  a  buoyant  stride. 

"  There's  only  one  answer,  of  course,"  he 
mused.  "  The  Patriarch's  got  a  brain  kink  on 
faith  —  it's  the  natural  outcome  of  living  alone 
for  sixty  years.  Outside  of  that  and  his  books, 
he's  as  simple  and  innocent  and  trusting  as  a  babe. 
I  suppose  the  thing's  kind  of  grown  on  him  — 
Hiram  said  it  had  taken  forty  years  —  which 
isn't  sudden  unless  you  say  it  quick.  Hanged  if 
I  don't  like  the  old  sport  though,  and  if  Helena 
isn't  the  best  ever  to  him  I'll  stop  her  chewing  gum 
allowance."  Madison  looked  up  through  the 
arched,  leafless  branches  overhead.  "  Beautiful 
night,  isn't  it?  "  said  he  pleasantly. 

A  little  later  he  reached  the  main  road  and 
paused  a  moment  on  the  bridge,  as  though  to  sum 
up  the  thoughts  and  imaginings  that  had  occupied 
him  on  the  way  along. 

"  It's  a  queer  world,"  said  John  Garfield  Mad- 
ison profoundly  to  the  turbid  little  stream  that 
flowed  beneath  his  feet.  "  I  wonder  why  some 


76  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

of  us  are  born  with  brains  —  and  some  are  born 
just  plain  damned  fools!  " 

He  went  on  again,  arrived  at  the  Congress  Ho- 
tel, and,  discovering  through  the  window  that  the 
leading  citizens  of  Needley  were  still  in  session, 
negotiated  the  back  entrance.  On  the  way  up- 
stairs he  stumbled  —  quite  inadvertently  —  and 
stopped  to  listen. 

"  There  he  be  now,"  announced  Hiram  Hig- 
gins'  voice  excitedly.  "  Coin'  up  to  his  room  to 
meditate.  Knew  he'd  come  back  feelin'  like  that. 
I  be  goin'  out  there  to-morrow  to  see  the  Patriarch 
myself." 

Madison  smiled,  mounted  the  remaining  stairs, 
entered  his  room,  and  lighted  his  lamp. 

"  Having  got  my  hand  in  at  writing,"  he  re- 
marked, "  I  guess  I'd  better  keep  it  up  and  write 
Helena  —  Vail." 

He  extracted  a  pad  of  writing  paper  and  an 
envelope  from  the  tray  of  his  trunk,  his  fountain 
pen  from  his  pocket,  and,  drawing  his  chair  to  the 
table  and  laying  down  his  cigar  reluctantly  at  his 
elbow,  began  to  write.  At  the  end  of  fifteen  min- 
utes, he  tilted  back  his  chair,  relighted  the  stub  of 
his  cigar,  and  critically  read  over  his  epistle. 

"  Dear  Kid,"  it  ran.  "  Do  not  be  anxious 
about  me  —  I  am  feeling  better  already.  Have 
had  my  first  treatment,  and  am  now  eating  fried 
eggs  and  ham  regularly  three  times  a  day.  A 
Sunday-school  picnic  taking  to  washboilers  full  of 
thin  coffee  and  the  left-over  cakes  kindly  contrib- 
uted by  Deacon  Jones'  household,  is  nothing  to 


A  STRANGE  CONVERSATION       77 

the  way  the  boobs  will  take  to  the  Patriarch  — 
who  has  kindly  consented  to  go  blind  to  make  our 
thorny  paths  as  smooth  as  possible  for  us. 

"  Do  you  get  that,  Helena  —  he's  going  blind  1 
In  just  a  few  days,  my  dear,  you  will  be  with  me, 
have  patience.  The  meteorological  bureau  is  a 
little  hazy  yet  on  the  exact  date  of  the  total  eclipse, 
but  it's  due  to  happen  any  minute.  Now  listen. 
Your  name  is  Helena  Vail.  You're  the  Patri- 
arch's grand-niece,  and  you're  coming  to  live  alone 
with  him  and  soothe  his  declining  years;  but  you 
can't  come  yet  because  I've  got  to  find  you  first, 
and  besides,  until  he's  blind,  he'll  stick  to  a  nasty 
habit  he's  got  of  asking  questions  on  his  little 
slate.  You  needn't  have  any  hesitation  about 
coming  on  the  score  of  propriety,  I  assure  you  it 
is  perfectly  proper  —  he  is  running  Methuselah 
pretty  near  a  dead  heat.  And,  as  far  as  the  town 
is  concerned,  apart  from  the  fact  that  you  are  a 
grand-niece,  orphaned,  you  don't  have  to  know 
anything  about  yourself,  either  —  that's  part  of 
the  Patriarch's  dark,  mysterious  past,  where  the 
lights  go  out  and  the  fiddles  get  rickets. 

"  That's  about  all.  I'll  let  you  know  when  to 
come.  Remember  me  to  Mr.  Coogan  and  Harry, 
and  keep  my  picture  under  your  pillow.  Ever 
thine,  J.  G.  M." 

Madison  picked  up  his  pen  again  and  added  an- 
other line: 

"  P.S.     Better  buy  a  cook-book." 

He  folded  the  pages,  inserted  them  in  the  en- 
velope, sealed  the  envelope  and  addressed  it  to 


78  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Miss  Helena  Smith  —  street  and  number  not  far 
from  the  tenderloin  district  of  New  York. 

Then  Madison  yawned  pleasantly,  tucked  the 
letter  in  his  pocket  •- —  and  prepared  for  bed. 


—  VI  — 

OFFICIALLY   ENDORSED 


I 


had  passed,  bringing  with  them 
many  changes.  The  snow  was  gone, 
and  the  warm,  balmy  airs  of  springtime 
had  brought  the  buds  upon  the  trees 
almost  to  leaf.  It  seemed  indeed  a  new  land,  and 
one  now  full  of  charm  and  delight  —  the  desolate, 
straggling  hamlet,  once  so  barren,  frozen  and 
hopeless  looking,  was  now  a  quaint,  alluring  little 
village  nestling  picturesquely  in  its  hollow,  framed 
in  green  fields  and  majestic  woods.  Quiet,  rest- 
ful, peaceful  it  was  —  like  a  dream  place,  untrou- 
bled. Upon  the  farms  about  men  plowed  their 
furrows,  calling  to  each  other  and  to  their  horses ; 
in  the  homes  the  doors  and  windows  were  thrown 
hospitably  wide  to  the  sweet,  fresh,  vernal  airs, 
and  the  thrifty  housewives  were  busy  at  their 
cleaning. 

And  there  had  been  other  changes,  too.  The 
ten  days  had  found  Madison  more  and  more  a 
constant  visitor,  and  finally  a  most  intimate  one, 
at  the  Patriarch's  cottage  —  while  to  the  circle  in 
the  hotel  office  his  voice  no  longer  rose  in  even 
feeble  protest,  he  was  one  of  them.  And,  per- 
haps most  vital  change  of  all,  the  Patriarch  was 
nearly  blind  —  so  nearly  blind  that  conversation 

79 


8o  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

now  was  limited  to  but  little  more  than  a  single 
word  at  a  time  upon  the  slate. 

It  was  morning,  in  the  Patriarch's  sitting-room, 
and  Madison  was  seated  in  his  usual  place  beside 
the  table  facing  the  other.  For  upwards  of  an 
hour,  it  had  taken  him  that  long,  he  had  been  en- 
gaged, having  decided  that  the  time  was  ripe,  in 
telling  the  Patriarch  that  his  grand-niece  had  been 
found  and  that  now  it  was  only  necessary  to  write 
and  ask  her  to  come  to  Needley. 

The  Patriarch's  fine  old  face  was  aglow  with 
pleasure  as  he  finally  understood.  Letter  writing 
was  beyond  him  now,  a  thing  of  the  past,  so  upon 
the  slate  he  scrawled: 

"  You  write." 

Madison  shook  his  head;  and  again  with  gentle 
patience  explained  that  perhaps  it  would  be  better 
if  the  letter  came  from  some  one  holding  an  offi- 
cial position  in  the  village,  rather  than  from  one 
who,  even  in  an  abstract  way,  would  be  unknown 
to  her  —  the  postmaster,  for  instance. 

And  the  Patriarch,  patting  Madison's  sleeve 
gratefully,  agreed. 

Out  in  the  garden  behind  the  cottage,  where 
for  the  first  time  in  sixty  seasons  the  work  must 
be  done  by  other  hands,  Hiram  Higgins,  the  vol- 
unteer for  the  moment,  was  busy  at  his  "  spell." 

Madison  stepped  to  the  door  and  called  him  in. 

"  Mr.  Higgins,"  he  said,  "  the  Patriarch  has 
just  told  me  that  he  has  a  grand-niece  living  in 
New  York,  and  he  wants  you  to  write  to  her  and 
ask  her  to  come  to  him." 


OFFICIALLY  ENDORSED  81 

"  Be  that  so!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Higgins,  gazing 
earnestly  at  the  Patriarch.  "  Well,  'tain't  no  sur- 
prise to  me  —  always  calc'lated  he  must  have 
folks  somewheres.  An'  I'm  right  glad  now  he 
needs  'em  he's  made  up  his  mind  to  have  'em  come. 
Wants  me  to  write,  does  he?  " 

"  He  can't  write  any  more  himself,"  said  Mad- 
ison. "  He  seems  to  think  that  you,  as  the  post- 
master, as  well  as  the  town  police  official,  are  the 
proper  person  to  do  it  —  and  I  quite  agree  with- 
him." 

"  So  I  be,"  declared  Mr.  Higgins  importantly. 
"  I'll  write  it  on  the  town  paper,  an'  comin'  from 
the  postmaster  there  won't  be  no  doubt  in  her 
mind  that  it's  any  of  them  bunco  games  or  the 
lurin'  of  young  women  away  such  as  I've  read 
about,  for  I  reckon  perhaps  she  ain't  never  heerd 
of  him  before  —  never  knew  him  to  write  a  letter, 
an'  I  calc'late  to  see  most  everything  that  goes 
out." 

Mr.  Higgins  picked  up  the  slate  and  wrote  the 
word  "grand-niece?"  upon  it  in  enormous  char- 
acters; then,  amplifying  his  interrogation  by  many 
gestures  of  his  hands,  deft  from  long  practice,  he 
held  the  slate  up  to  the  Patriarch. 

The  Patriarch  nodded,  and  Hiram  Higgins 
nodded  back  encouragingly. 

"Where  be  her  address?"  Mr.  Higgins  in- 
quired of  Madison. 

Madison  stepped  to  the  bookshelves  out  of 
view  of  the  Patriarch  around  the  fireplace,  but  in 
full  view  of  Mr.  Higgins,  and,  reaching  down  the 


82  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Bible  from  the  topmost  shelf,  extracted  from  in- 
side its  cover  the  aged,  yellow  slip  of  paper  that 
he  had  deposited  there  when  he  had  entered  the 
cottage  that  morning,  and  on  which  was  inscribed 
Helena's  name  and  address  in  a  stiff,  old-fash- 
ioned, angular  hand  resembling  the  Patriarch's  — 
an  effect  that  Madison  had  stayed  up  half  the 
night  to  produce. 

"  I  guess  this  must  be  it,"  he  said.  "  He  said 
it  was  here  —  we'll  make  sure  though  " —  and  he 
handed  it  to  the  Patriarch. 

Long  and  painfully  the  Patriarch  studied  it, 
anxiously  deciphering  the  words  that  he  had  never 
seen  before,  anxious  to  know  all  and  whatever 
this  might  tell  him  about  his  niece  —  then  again 
he  nodded  his  head  and  expressed  his  gratitude  by 
patting  Madison's  sleeve. 

Madison's  smile  modestly  disavowed  any 
thanks,  as  he  passed  the  slip  to  Mr.  Higgins. 

"  Reckon  that  be  it,"  Mr.  Higgins  agreed. 
"  An'  now,  I  guess  I'll  go  right  back  to  town  an' 
write  it  —  I  allow  that  the  sooner  we  get  her  down 
here  the  better.  Folks'll  be  glad  to  hear  this  — 
the  women  folks  was  figurin'  on  takin'  spells  an' 
helpin'  out  in  the  house  same  as  the  men  in  the 
garden  — 'pears  now  there  won't  be  no  need  of 
it." 

Madison  accompanied  Mr.  Higgins  outside  and 
helped  him  to  harness  up. 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Madison,"  said  Hiram  Hig- 
gins, as  he  made  ready  to  go  and  climbed  into  the 
democrat,  "  would  you  allow  that  the  Patriarch's 


OFFICIALLY  ENDORSED  83 

goin'  blind  was  goin'  to  interfere  any  with  his 
power  of  curin'  folks?  It'll  be  a  powerful  blow 
to  the  town  if  it  does." 

"  Why,  of  course  not !  "  said  Madison  deci- 
sively. "  Certainly  not !  Indeed,  I  wouldn't  be 
surprised  if  it  enhanced  his  power  —  it's  purely 
mental,  you  know.  They  say  that  the  loss  of  any 
one  or  more  of  the  senses  generally  tends  to  make 
the  others  only  the  more  acute  —  it's  the  —  er  — 
law  of  compensation." 

"  Glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Mr.  Higgins, 
with  a  sigh  of  relief,  "  'cause  I  got  another  letter 
to  write  'sides  this  one  for  the  Patriarch.  It  come 
last  night,  an'  I  was  figurin'  on  speakin'  to  you 
about  it."  Mr.  Higgins  dropped  the  reins  on 
the  dashboard,  and  dove  into  first  one  pocket  and 
then  another.  "  Shucks !  "  said  he  disgustedly. 
"  Now  if  I  ain't  gone  an'  left  it  to  home  after  all. 
But  I  dunno  as  it  makes  much  difference.  It  was 
from  a  fellow  up  your  way  by  the  name  of  Mi- 
chael Coogan,  an'  was  addressed  to  the  postmas- 
ter. 'Pears  he  read  a  piece  in  the  papers  about 
the  Patriarch  which  he  sent  along  with  the  letter. 
Allows  he's  been  ailin'  quite  a  spell,  though  he 
don't  say  what's  the  matter  with  him,  an'  wants 
to  know  if  what's  in  that  piece  is  all  gospel  truth, 
'cause  if  'tis  he's  comin'  down.  That's  why  I'm 
right  glad  to  have  heerd  you  say  what  you  just 
said.  Bein'  postmaster  an'  writin'  'fficially,  I  got 
to  be  conscientious  and  pretty  partic'lar." 

'  Yes,   of  course  —  naturally,"   said  Madison^ 
"  And  what  are  you  going  to  say  to  him?  " 


£4  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  Why,"  returned  Mr.  Higgins,  "  there  ain't 
no  trouble  about  it  now.  Coin'  to  tell  him  that 
if  the  Patriarch  can't  help  him  there  ain't  nobody 
on  earth  can  —  thought  of  mentionin'  your  name, 
too." 

"  By  all  means,"  assented  Madison  cordially. 
"  I  feel  like  a  new  man  since  I've  come  here.  I 
only  wish  more  people  knew  about  the  Patriarch 
—  it  makes  your  heart  ache  to  think  of  the  suf- 
fering and  sickness  that  people  endure  so  hope- 
lessly when  there  isn't  any  need  of  it." 

"  Yes,  so  it  do,"  said  Mr.  Higgins.  He  picked 
up  the  reins.  "So  it  do,"  he  said  heartily. 

Madison  watched  the  democrat  as  it  started  off 
behind  the  ambling  horse  —  watched  with  a  sort 
of  fascination  at  the  inebriate,  sideways  stagger 
of  the  wheels,  a  sort  of  wonder  that  the  rear  ones 
didn't  shut  up  like  a  jack-knife  under  the  body  of 
the  vehicle  and  the  democrat  promptly  sit  down  on 
its  tail-board;  then,  smiling,  he  walked  back  into 
the  cottage.  The  Patriarch  was  still  sitting  in 
the  armchair  beside  the  table.  Madison  halted 
before  the  other. 

"  Well,"  said  he  confidentially  to  the  Patriarch, 
"  that's  settled  and  I  don't  mind  admitting  that 
it's  a  load  off  my  mind.  I  hate  to  think  of  what 
we'd  have  done  without  Hiram  Higgins  —  in 
fact,  it  distresses  me  to  think  of  it.  Let  us  think 
of  something  else.  Day  after  to-morrow  Helena 
'11  be  along.  Helena  is  the  one  and  only  —  but 
you'll  find  that  out  for  yourself.  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  though  that  she  wears  a  number  two 


OFFICIALLY  ENDORSED  8$ 

shoe,  and  you  can  guess  the  rest  without  any  help 
from  me.  Then  a  day  or  so  later  the  Flopper  and 
Pale  Face  Harry  '11  be  along  —  you'll  enjoy  them 

—  things  aren't  going  to  be  a  bit  slow  from  now 
on.     I  expect  the  Flopper  will  bring  some  friends 
with  him,  too,  so's  to  make  a  nice  little  house-party 

—  I    wrote    him    about    it,    and — "     Madison 
stopped  abruptly. 

The  Patriarch,  evidently  catching  a  movement 
of  Madison's  lips,  was  gesticulating  violently  to- 
ward his  ears,  while  he  smiled  half  tolerantly,  half 
protestingly. 

Madison  nodded  quickly  and  smiled  deprecat- 
ingiy  in  return. 

"  By  Jove!"  he  said  apologetically.  "I  al- 
ways keep  forgetting  that  you  can't  hear.  I  was 
suggesting  that  perhaps  you  might  like  to  go  for 
a  walk  —  Mr.  Higgins  says  it's  a  fine  day." 
Madison  picked  up  the  slate  and  in  huge  letters 
that  sprawled  from  one  end  of  the  slate  to  the 
other  wrote  the  word:  "WALK?" 

The  Patriarch  rose  from  his  chair  with  a  pleased 
expression,  and  Madison  helped  him  solicitously 
to  the  door. 

They  passed  out  into  the  sunshine  and  headed 
for  the  beach  —  the  Patriarch,  erect  and  strong, 
guiding  himself  with  his  hand  on  Madison's  arm. 

Reaching  the  beach,  the  Patriarch  paused  and 
turned  his  face  toward  the  ocean,  while  he  drew 
in  great  breaths  of  the  invigorating  air  —  and 
Madison  involuntarily  stepped  a  little  aside  to 
look  at  the  other  critically,  as  one  might  seek  a 


86  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

vantage  ground  from  which  to  view  a  picture  in 
all  its  variant  lights  and  shades.  Against  the 
crested,  breaking  surf,  the  fume-sprayed  ledges  of 
rock,  the  Patriarch  stood  out  a  majestic,  almost 
saintly  figure  —  tall,  stately,  grand  with  the  true 
grandeur  of  simplicity,  simple  in  dress,  simple  in 
attitude  and  mien,  patience,  sweetness  and  trust 
illumining  his  face,  his  silver-crowned  head  thrown 
back. 

"  I  can  shut  my  eyes,"  said  Madison  softly, 
"  and  see  the  Flopper  being  cured  right  now  — 
and  the  Flopper  couldn't  help  it  if  he  wanted 
to!" 


—  VII  — 
THE  PATRIARCH'S  GRAND-NIECE 

IT  was  Hiram  Higgins  who  introduced 
Helena  Vail  to  Madison,  two  days  later. 
Madison  had  led  the  Patriarch  outside 
the  door  of  the  cottage  as  the  sound  of 
wheels  announced  the  expected  arrival,  and  was 
waiting  for  her  as  Mr.  Higgins  drove  up  in  the 
democrat.  Helena,  marvelously  garbed,  in  the 
extreme  of  fashion,  was  demurely  surveying  her 
surroundings;  while  Mr.  Higgins  was  very  evi- 
dently excited  and  not  a  little  flustered.  A  huge 
trunk  and  two  smaller  ones  occupied  the  rear 
of  the  democrat,  with  the  dismantled  back  seat 
lashed  on  top  of  them. 

Madison,  leaving  the  Patriarch,  hastened  for- 
ward politely. 

"  Mr.  Madison,"  said  Hiram  Higgins  impor- 
tantly, "  this  be  the  Patriarch's  grand-niece  come 
to  stay  with  him." 

From  under  a  picture  hat,  Helena's  eyes  smiled 
down  at  Madison. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Madi- 
son," she  said  cordially.  "  Mr.  Higgins  has 
been  telling  me  about  you,  and  how  good  you 
have  been  to  my  —  my  grand-uncle." 

?7 


88  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  say  so,  Miss  Vail," 
responded  Madison  modestly.  "  May  I  help 
you  down?  " 

She  gave  him  a  daintily  gloved  hand,  exposed 
a  daintily  stockinged  ankle  as  she  placed  her  foot 
a  little  hesitantly  on  the  wheel,  and  jumped  lightly 
to  the  ground. 

'  That,"  she  said  quickly  and  a  little  anxiously 
for  Mr.  Higgins'  ears,  indicating  the  Patriarch, 
"  that  is  my  grand-uncle  there,  I  am  sure." 

"  Yes,"  said  Madison,  leading  her  toward  the 
Patriarch.  "  And  he  has  been  looking  forward 
very  anxiously  all  day  to  your  arrival  —  it  seemed 
as  though  the  afternoon  would  never  come  for 
him." 

"  Gee !  "  said  Helena  under  her  breath.  "  I 
had  the  rubes  in  the  village  on  the  run  —  you 
ought  to  have  seen  them  stare  as  the  chariot  drove 
along." 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  said  Madison  softly. 
"  The  sun's  rather  strong  down  here,  Helena,  and 
if  you're  not  careful  you'll  scorch  your  neck  with 
those  burning-glasses  you've  got  in  your  ears." 

"  Don't  I  look  nice?  "  demanded  Helena,  with 
a  pout. 

"  You  bet  you  do !  "  said  Madison  earnestly. 
"  You've  got  the  swellest  thing  on  Broadway 
beaten  from  Forty-Second  Street  to  the  Battery. 
Now,  here  you  are  " —  they  had  halted  before 
the  Patriarch. 

The  venerable  face  was  turned  toward  them, 
as  though  by  instinct  the  Patriarch  knew  that 


THE  GRAND-NIECE  89 

they  were  there  —  and  his  hands  were  held  out  in 
greeting. 

Helena  clasped  them  firmly,  and  submitted 
sweetly  as  the  Patriarch  drew  her  into  his  arms. 

The  Patriarch  released  her  after  an  instant, 
and  his  hands,  in  lieu  of  eyes,  reaching  out  to 
search  her  face,  came  bewilderingly  in  contact 
with  the  picture  hat. 

Helena,  a  little  uncertainly,  looked  at  Madi- 
son. 

"  Is  he  all  blind?  "  she  whispered. 

"  Quite  blind,"  said  Madison  sadly. 

Helena's  face  clouded  a  little,  and  into  the 
brown  eyes  crept  a  strange,  sudden,  sympathetic 
look. 

"Doc,"  she  said,  "it  —  it  isn't  fair.  It's  a 
shame  —  he  can't  fight  back." 

"  One  error  to  you,  Miss  Vail,"  said  Madison 
pleasantly.  "  Eliminate  the  *  Doc.'  Don't  shed 
tears,  you're  down  here  to  be  sweet  to  him,  aren't 
you  —  well,  get  into  the  game." 

Helena  turned  from  Madison,  and,  impulsively 
taking  the  Patriarch's  groping  hands,  guided  them 
to  her  cheeks  and  held  them  there. 

"Lucky  dog!  "  observed  Madison;  then,  rais- 
ing his  voice :  "  I  am  sure  you  would  like  to  be 
alone  together,  Miss  Vail  —  perhaps  you  will  take 
him  into  the  cottage.  If  you  will  excuse  me,  I'll 
help  Mr.  Higgins  with  the  trunks." 

Madison  turned  and  walked  over  to  where  Mr. 
Higgins,  beside  the  democrat  with  a  handful  of 
chin  whiskers,  was  observing  the  scene. 


90  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"Fine  girl!"  declared  Mr.  Higgms,  as 
Helena,  with  the  Patriarch's  arm  in  hers,  disap- 
peared inside  the  cottage.  "  'Pears  she  must 
have  money,  an'  I'm  right  glad  'count  of  the 
Patriarch  —  said  her  father  an'  mother  was  dead 
an'  she  was  alone  in  the  world  —  them  jewels 
she  wore  must  have  cost  a  pile.  Reckon  she's 
been  used  to  livin'  kinder  different  from  the  way 
folks  down  here  do  — •  hope  'tain't  goin'  to  be  so 
hard  on  her  she  won't  want  to  stay." 

"  I  was  thinking  about  that  myself,"  said 
Madison  gravely,  knotting  his  brows  as  he  nodded 
his  head.  '  There's  no  doubt  it  will  be  a  big 
change  for  her,  but  I  imagine  she  had  some  sort 
of  an  idea  what  to  expect  —  it  is  certainly  greatly 
to  her  credit  that  she  would  give  up  her  own  in- 
terests unselfishly  and  come  here  to  devote  her 
life  to  the  care  of  a  relative  whom  she  had  never 
seen  before.  I've  an  idea  that  the  girl  who 
would  do  that  is  the  kind  of  a  girl  who's  got  grit 
enough  to  see  it  through." 

"  So  she  be,"  said  Mr.  Higgins  heartily. 
"  Ain't  every  one  'ud  do  it  —  not  by  a  heap!  " 

"  I'll  give  you  a  hand  with  the  trunks,"  said 
Madison  thoughtfully. 

They  carried  the  large  trunk  between  them  into 
the  cottage  and,  as  Helena  called  to  them,  down 
the  little  hallway  past  what  Madison  knew  to 
be  the  Patriarch's  bedroom,  and  stopped  before 
the  next  door,  which  was  open.  Madison  remem- 
bered the  room,  when  nearly  two  weeks  ago  now 
the  Patriarch  had  shown  him  through  the  cottage, 


THE  GRAND-NIECE  91 

as  a  sort  of  store-room  full  of  odds  and  ends. 
Mr.  Higgins,  too,  evidently  had  known  it  only  in 
that  guise,  for  he  whistled  softly  and  reached  for 
his  whiskers. 

"  Well  now,  if  that  ain't  right  smart  of  the 
Patriarch !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Real  set  he  must 
have  been  on  makin'  you  feel  to  home,  Miss  Vail 

—  an'  never  said  a  word  to  no  one,  neither." 
"Yes,"   said  Helena,   "isn't  it  pretty?     And 

did  he  really  fix  this  up  for  me  all  by  himself?  " 

—  she  was  looking  at  Madison,  as  she  stood  in 
the  center  of  the  room  beside  the  Patriarch. 

"  Must  have,"  said  Madison,  surveying  the 
room. 

It  wasn't  luxurious,  the  little  chamber,  nor  was 
there  over  much  of  furniture,  nor  was  that  even 
of  a  high  order  —  there  was  a  bed  with  a  red- 
checkered  crazy-quilt;  a  washstand  with  severe, 
heavy  white  crockery;  a  rocking  chair,  homemade, 
of  hickory;  a  rag  mat,  round,  many-colored;  and 
white  muslin  curtains  on  the  windows.  It  wasn't 
luxurious,  the  little  chamber  —  it  was  fresh  and 
sweet  and  clean. 

Upon  the  Patriarch's  face  was  a  sort  of  pleased 
expectancy,  and  Helena  promptly  took  his  arm 
and  pressed  it  affectionately. 

"  Isn't  it  perfectly  dear  of  him !  "  she  said 
softly.  "  To  think  of  him  going  to  all  this  trou- 
ble for  me  when  he  could  scarcely  see !  " 

"  Well,  'tain't  no  more'n  you  deserve,"  said 
Mr.  Higgins  gallantly,  as  he  slewed  the  trunk 
around  against  the  wall.  "  I'll  lug  them  other 


9fc  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

truwks  in  myself,  ain't  but  small  ones,  they  ain't " 
• —  and  he  hurried  from  the  room,  as  though  fear- 
ful that  Madison  might  secure  a  share  in  the  hon- 
ors. 

"  I  guess  you've  made  a  hit  with  Mr.  Higgins, 
Helena,"  observed  Madison,  with  a  grin. 

"Have  I?"  returned  Helena  absently;  then 
abruptly:  "  This  is  a  real  nice  lay  you've  steered 
me  into,  John  Madison." 

"Yes;  not  bad,"  said  Madison  complacently. 
"  Bring  your  uncle  into  the  front  room,  Helena; 
and  then  you  can  get  Hiram  to  show  you  the  well 
and  the  old  oaken  bucket  and  where  the  pan- 
tries and  cupboards  are,  he  knows  more  about 
them  than  I  do  —  it's  pretty  near  time  for  you  to 
be  thinking  about  getting  supper." 

"Are  you  going  to  stay  for  it?"  inquired 
Helena  pertly. 

"  For  the  first  attempt!  "  ejaculated  Madison, 
with  a  wry  face.  "  Good  Heavens,  no !  I'm 
just  convalescing  from  a  serious  illness." 

In  the  front  room  Madison  settled  himself  to 
a  study  of  the  Patriarch's  beaming,  happy  face, 
while  Helena  under  Mr.  Higgins'  attentive  guid- 
ance explored  the  cottage. 

"  D'ye  know,  old  chap,"  he  said,  and  leaned 
across  the  table  to  touch  the  Patriarch's  hand, 
"  I  feel  like  a  blooming  philanthropist.  An  out- 
sider might  think  I  was  playing  you  pretty  low 
and  taking  advantage  of  you,  and  even  Helena's 
got  a  budding  hunch  that  way  it  seems  —  but  just 
think  of  the  mess  you'd  have  been  in  if  it  wasn't 


THE  GRAND-NIECE  93 

for  me,  just  think  of  the  good  you're  going  to  do, 
and  just  look  at  yourself  and  see  how  pleased  and 
happy  you  look." 

The  Patriarch  smiled  responsively  to  the  touch 
upon  his  hand. 

"  Of  course  you  are,"  said  Madison  affably. 

Presently  there  came  the  sound  of  an  axe  bus- 
ily at  work,  and  a  moment  later  Helena  came 
laughingly  into  the  room. 

"  He's  filling  up  the  wood-box,"  she  explained, 
and  darting  across  to  Madison  put  her  arms 
around  his  neck.  "  Aren't  you  going  to  tell  me 
you're  glad  to  see  me?"  she  whispered  coyly. 
"  Oh,  I've  been  longing  so  for  you !  Kiss  me  " 
—  she  held  out  tempting  little  red  lips,  invitingly 
pursed  up. 

"Nix  on  that!"  said  Madison,  smiling  but 
firm,  as  he  disengaged  her  arms.  "  Soft  pedal, 
Helena,  my  dear." 

"  But  he  can't  see  or  hear,"  pouted  Helena. 

"I  should  hope  not!"  said  Madison,  with  a 
gasp.  "  But  you  never  know  who  else  might,  or 
when  they  might  —  we  begin  right,  and  run  no 
risks  —  see?  People  have  a  charming  habit  of 
dropping  around  informally  here  —  everybody's 
at  home." 

"Don't  you  love  me  any  more?"  inquired 
Helena,  unconvinced,  and  still  pouting. 

"  Of  course,  I  do !  "  asserted  Madison,  laugh- 
ing at  her.  "  Don't  be  a  goose,  Helena.  You 
remember  what  I  told  you  all  in  the  Roost,  don't 
you?  Well,  I  haven't  been  living  in  a  Maine 


94  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

village  ten  days  or  two  weeks  for  nothing,  and 
what  I  said  then  goes  now  more  than  ever.  Now, 
don't  get  sore,  kid  —  there's  a  big  stake  up,  and 
if  we're  going  to  play  the  game  we've  got  to  play 
it  to  the  limit.  We  live  perfectly,  ultra-proper, 
decent  lives,  mentally,  morally,  physically,  till  we 
beat  it  out  of  here  for  keeps." 

"  Ain't  we  going  to  have  a  nice  time !  "  mur- 
mured Helena  sarcastically. 

"  Oh,  cheer  up !  "  said  Madison.  "  It  may  be 
quiet  for  a  day  or  two  —  but  not  much  longer 
than  that.  Now  tell  me  about  the  Flopper  and 
Pale  Face  before  Higgins  gets  back  —  have  they 
got  things  straight?  And  pat  your  uncle's  hand 
while  you  talk,  Helena  —  get  the  habit." 

"  I  don't  have  to  get  the  habit,"  said  Helena  a 
little  crossly,  perching  herself  on  the  arm  of  the 
Patriarch's  chair  and  taking  his  hand.  "  I  think 
he's  a  perfect  dear,  and  for  us  to  sit  here  and 
take  advantage  of  him  when  he  trusts  us  is — " 

"  Now  cut  that  out,"  said  Madison  cheerfully. 
"  Think  of  those  gondolas  in  Venice  when  we  get 
through  with  this  —  that'll  make  you  feel  better. 
Go  on  about  the  Flopper  and  Pale  Face  —  can 
the  Flopper  speak  any  English  yet?" 

Helena  laughed  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  I've  had  a  dream  of  a  time  with  him,"  she 
said.  "  He's  broken  his  neck  trying,  at  any  rate; 
and  he's  not  so  bad  as  he  was  —  quite." 

"  Good !  "  said  Madison.     "  And  ?  " 

"  I  read  them  your  last  letter  saying  they  were 
to  some  together  and  work  the  train  on  the  way 


THE  GRAND-NIECE  95 

down,"  she  continued.  ;'  The  Flopper  got  the 
postmaster's  letter,  too." 

"How  did  it  size  up  as  a  testimonial?"  in- 
quired Madison. 

Helena's  dark  eyes  flashed  with  amusement. 

"Lovely!" 

"Too  thick  —  fishy?"  asked  Madison. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Helena,  "  not  if  you  have  faith 
—  just  strong.  It's  all  right,  though;  I  told  him 
he  could  use  it  —  it's  a  drawing  card  in  itself,  for 
some  of  them  would  be  curious  enough  to  get  off 
and  see  the  finish.  Everything  is  all  fixed  — 
they'll  be  here  to-morrow." 

"Good  girl!"  said  Madison  approvingly. 
"  We'll  pull  it  off  out  there  on  the  lawn  where  all 
the  multitude  can  see  —  you'll  have  to  lead  his 
nibs  out  and  guide  him  to  the  Flopper  while  the 
hush  falls  and  you  look  kind  of  scared  —  you 
know  the  lay.  There's  no  one  can  touch  you 
when  it  comes  to  playing  up  to  the  house.  And 
now,  there's  just  one  thing  more  —  you'll  need 
some  one  around  here  to  help  you  and  keep  an  eye 
on  the  offerings  when  they  begin  to  come  in. 
Well,  that's  the  Flopper's  role  in  the  second  act 
< — see?  Overwhelmed  with  gratitude  at  his 
cure,  he  attaches  himself  to  the  Patriarch  with 
doglike  fidelity  —  beautiful  thought !  —  get  the 
idea?  And—" 

"Hush!"  cautioned  Helena.  "Here's  Mr. 
Higgins  coming." 

"  All  right,"  said  Madison,  rising  and  moving 
to  the  door.  "  I'm  going  now,  then  —  guess  you 


96  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

understand.  See  you  in  the  morning  for  the  final 
touches.  Tell  Mr.  Higgins  I'm  waiting  outside 
for  him  to  drive  me  home."  He  raised  his  voice. 
"  Good  afternoon,  Miss  Vail,"  he  said,  and 
stepped  out  onto  the  lawn. 


—  VIII  — 

IN  WHICH  THE  BAIT  IS  NIBBLED 


f"  ""^HERE  was  a  group  around  the  Flopper 
on  the  Portland  platform  beside  the 
Bar  Harbor  express;  some  wore  pity- 

JL  ing  expressions,  others  smiled  a  little 
tolerantly  * —  Pale  Face  Harry,  from  the  circle, 
sneered  openly. 

"  Nutty !  "  he  coughed,  and  touched  his  fore- 
head. "  Nothing  doing  in  the  upper  story  — 
some  one  ought  to  look  after  him." 

The  Flopper,  a  crippled  thing  on  the  ground, 
fixed  Pale  Face  Harry  with  a  pointed  forefinger. 

'  Youse  don't  look  like  you  had  many  weeps 
to  spare  for  anybody  but  yerself  —  yer  fallin'  to 
pieces,"  said  the  Flopper.  "  I  didn't  ask  you  nor 
any  of  youse  to  butt  in  —  I  was  talkin'  to  dis  lady 
here  " — he  motioned  toward  a  young  woman  in 
a  wheeled,  invalid  chair,  who,  between  a  trained 
nurse  on  one  side  and  a  gentleman  on  the  other, 
was  regarding  him  with  a  startled  expression  in 
her  eyes. 

She  turned  now  and  spoke  to  the  gentleman  be- 
side her. 

"  Robert,"  she  said,  in  a  low,  anxious  tone,  "  do 
you  think  that  —  that  there  can  be  anything  in 
it?" 


98  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  Have  you  lost  your  head,  Naida?  "  the  man 
laughed.  ''  The  age  of  miracles  has  passed." 

"  But  he  is  so  sure"  she  whispered. 

"  Poppycock!  "  said  her  companion  contemptu- 
ously. 

The  Flopper,  in  good,  if  unfashionable  and 
ready-made  clothes,  fresh  linen,  and  a  clean  shave, 
turned  a  bright,  intelligent  face  on  the  man  at  this- 
remark. 

"  I  guess  youse  are  de  kind,"  he  said,  with  a 
grim  smile,  "  dat  ain't  had  to  kill  yerself  worryin' 
much  about  any  kind  of  trouble,  an'  it  ain't  nothin' 
to  you  to  cut  de  ground  of  hope  out  from  another 
guy's  feet  an'  let  him  slide.  Mabbe  you  think 
I'm  nutty  too,  because  I  know  I'm  goin'  to  be 
cured  —  but  it  don't  hurt  you  none  to  have  me 
think  so,  does  it?  Mabbe  someday  you  might 
like  to  hope  a  little  yerself,  an'  if  — " 

"'Board!  All  aboard!" — the  conductor's 
voice  boomed  down  the  platform. 

The  young  woman  leaned  forward  in  her  chair 
toward  the  Flopper. 

"  I  know  what  it  is  to  hope,"  she  said  softly. 
"Will  you  come  back  into  our  car  after  awhile? 
I'd  like  to  have  you  tell  me  more  about  this. 
\ Please  do." 

j     "  Sure,"    said   the    Flopper    amiably.     "  Sure, 
'mum,  I  will,  if  youse  wants  me  to." 

The  crowd  broke  up,  hurrying  for  the  train; 
and  the  Flopper,  dragging  a  valise  along  beside 
him,  jerked  himself  toward  the  steps. 

"  Swipe  me,  if  I  ain't  got  a  bite  already!  "  said 


THE  BAIT  IS  NIBBLED  99 

the  Flopper  to  himself.  "  An'  outer  a  private 
car,  too  —  wouldn't  dat  bump  you !  An'  say, 
wait  till  you  see  de  Doc  t'row  up  his  dukes  when 
he  listens  to  me  handin'  out  me  sterilized  Eng- 
lish!" 

The  brakeman  and  a  kindly-hearted  fellow  pas- 
senger helped  the  Flopper  into  the  train  —  and 
thereafter  for  an  hour  or  more,  in  a  first  class 
coach,  the  Flopper  held  undisputed  sway.  The 
passengers,  flocking  from  the  other  cars,  filled  the 
aisle  and  seriously  interfered  with  the  lordly 
movements  of  the  train  crew,  challenging  the  con- 
ductor's authority  with  passive  indifference  until 
that  functionary,  exasperated  beyond  endurance, 
threatened  to  curtail  the  ride  the  Flopper  had  paid 
for  and  put  him  off  at  the  next  station  —  whereat 
the  passive  attitude  of  the  passengers  vanished. 
The  American  public  is  always  interested  in  a 
novelty,  and  on  occasions  is  not  to  be  gainsaid  — 
the  American  public,  as  represented  by  the  pa- 
trons of  the  Bar  Harbor  express,  was  interested 
at  the  moment  in  the  Flopper,  and  they  passed 
the  conductor  from  hand  to  hand  —  it  was  the 
only  way  he  could  have  got  through  the  car  —  and 
deposited  him  outside  in  the  vestibule  to  tell  his 
troubles  to  the  buffer-plate. 

The  Flopper  was  in  deadly,  serious  earnest; 
there  was  no  doubt,  no  possible  room  for  doubt 
on  that  score  —  one  had  but  to  look  at  the  flush 
upon  his  cheeks  and  note  the  ring  of  conviction  in 
his  voice.  Even  Pale  Face  Harry's  gibes  and 
sneers  melted  before  the  unshakable  assurance. 


ioo  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

and  he  became,  with  reservations,  noticeably  im- 
pressed. 

A  metropolitan  newspaper  man  was  struck  with 
the  idea  of  a  humorous  series  of  articles  to  pay 
for  his  vacation,  entitled,  "  Characters  I  Have 
Met  In  Maine  " —  and  forthwith,  perched  on  the 
back  of  the  seat  behind  the  Flopper,  proceeded* 
to  sketch  out  the  first  one,  with  the  mental  de- 
termination to  get  off  at  Needley  for  the  local 
color  necessary  to  its  climax. 

A  soap  drummer  nudged  a  fellow  drummer 
whose  line  was  lingerie. 

"  Ever  do  Needley?  "  he  grinned. 

The  lingerie  exponent  had  a  sense  of  humor  — 
he  grinned  back. 

"  My  house  is  everlastingly  rubbing  it  into  me 
to  open  up  new  territory,"  said  the  soap  sales- 
man. 

"  Me  too,"  responded  the  white-goods  man. 

"  Needley,"  said  he  of  the  soap  persuasion, 
"  would  be  virgin  soil  for  any  drummer." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  the  finish,"  said  the  lingerie 
man  —  still  grinning. 

"Well?"  inquired  the  soap  man  —  still  grin- 
ning. "  What  do  you  say?  " 

"  You  bet !  "  said  the  man  with  eight  trunks 
full  of  daintiness  in  the  baggage  car  ahead.  "  It's 
Needley  for  ours  —  you're  on !  " 

The  Flopper  was  an  artist  —  and  he  was  in  his 
glory.  Where  his  position  was  indubitably  weak, 
he  side-stepped  with  the  frank  admission  that  he 
knew  no  more  than  they.  He  knew  only  one 


THE  BAIT  IS  NIBBLED  101 

thing,  and  that  was  the  only  thing  he  cared  about, 
the  rest  made  no  odds  to  him,  he  was  going  down 
to  Needley  to  be  cured  —  and  he  let  them  see 
Mr.  Biggins'  letter. 

A  porter  from  the  rear  car  squirmed  and  wrig- 
gled his  way  down  to  the  seat  occupied  by  the 
Flopper. 

"  Mistah  Tho'nton,  sah,"  he  announced  impor- 
tantly, "  would  like  to  see  you  in  his  private  car, 
if  you  could  done  make  it  convenient,  sah." 

"  Sure!  "  said  the  Flopper. 

The  passengers  crowded  up,  standing  on  the 
seats  and  arm-rests,  to  make  room  for  the  Flop- 
per to  crawl  down  the  aisle,  while  the  porter 
preceded  him  to  open  the  doors. 

Through  the  car  in  the  rear  of  the  one  he  had 
occupied,  the  regular  parlor  car,  the  Flopper,  a 
piteous  spectacle,  made  his  way  —  chairs  turned, 
the  occupants  craned  their  necks  after  the  de- 
formed and  broken  creature,  while  smothered  ex- 
clamations and  little  cries  of  sympathy  from  the 
women  followed  him  along.  The  Flopper's  eyes 
never  lifted  from  the  strip  of  carpet  before  him, 
but  his  lips  moved. 

"  Gee !  "  he  muttered.  "  Dis  has  de  gape- 
wagon  skun  a  mile.  Wish  I  could  pass  de  hat  — 
I'd  make  de  killin'  of  me  young  life.  Pipe  de 
hydrogen  hair  on  de  gran'mother  wid  de  sparkler 
on  her  thumb  an'  weeps  in  her  eyes,  an'  look  at 
de  guy  wid  de  yellow  gloves  rolled  back  on  his 
wrists  to  heighten  de  intelligint  look  on  his  face, 
dat  she's  kiddin' —  I  could  play  dem  to  a  fare- 


102  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

thee-well  if  I  only  had  de  chanst.  Oh,  gee!  " — •. 
the  Flopper  sighed  — "  an'  I  got  to  let  it  go !  " 

With  regret  still  poignantly  affecting  him,  the 
Flopper  passed  on  into  the  private  car,  and  the 
porter  ushered  him  into  a  sort  of  combination  ob- 
servation and  sitting-room  compartment.  The 
Flopper's  eyes  lifted  and  made  a  quick,  compre- 
hensive tour  of  his  surroundings.  The  young 
woman  who  had  spoken  to  him  on  the  platform 
was  reclining  on  a  couch ;  the  nurse  sat  on  the  foot 
of  the  couch;  and  the  man  was  tilted  back  in  an 
armchair  against  the  window. 

The  young  woman  raised  herself  to  a  sitting 
posture  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Thornton,"  she  said,  with  a  smile. 
"  This  is  my  husband,  and  this  is  Miss  Harvey, 
my  nurse.  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  come, 
Mr. —  ?  "  she  paused  invitingly. 

"  Coogan,"  supplied  the  Flopper.  "  Michael 
Coogan." 

"  Let  me  offer  you  a  chair,  Mr.  Coogan,"  said 
Thornton,  a  little  ironically,  pushing  one  toward 
the  Flopper.  "  Or  would  you  be  more  comforta- 
ble on  the  floor?" 

The  Flopper's  eyelids  fell  —  covering  a  quick, 
ugly  glint. 

"T'anks!"  he  said  —  and  swung  himself,  by 
his  arms,  into  the  chair. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  about  this  strange 
man  in  Needley,  and  how  you  came  to  hear  of 
him  and  believe  in  him,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton. 
"  I  was  only  able  to  get  just  the  barest  outline  of 


THE  BAIT  IS  NIBBLED  103 

it  out  there  on  the  platform  with  the  crowd 
around." 

"  Dat's  easy,"  said  the  Flopper  earnestly. 
"  Sure,  I'll  tell  you.  I  saw  a  piece  about  dis 
Patriarch  in  one  of  de  Noo  Yoik  papers,  so  I 
writes  to  de  postmaster  of  de  town  to  find  out  if  he 
was  on  de  level  —  see  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton.  "  And  what  did 
the  postmaster  say?  " 

The  Flopper  took  Hiram  Higgins'  letter  from 
his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  Mrs.  Thornton. 

"  Youse  can  read  it  fer  yerself,  mum,"  he  said, 
with  an  air  of  one  delivering  a  final  and  irrefuta- 
ble argument. 

Mrs.  Thornton  read  the  letter  carefully,  al- 
most anxiously. 

"  If  only  a  part  of  this  is  true,"  she  said  wist- 
fully, passing  it  to  her  husband,  "  it  is  perfectly 
wonderful." 

Mr.  Thornton  read  it  —  with  a  grin. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure,"  he  observed 
caustically,  handing  the  letter  to  Miss  Harvey, 
"  how  the  medical  profession  would  stand  on  this 

—  would  your  school  endorse  it,  nurse?  " 

Miss  Harvey  read  it  with  her  back  to  the  others 

—  then   she   glanced   at    Mrs.   Thornton  —  and 
checked  herself  as  she  was  about  to  speak.     She 
folded  the  letter  slowly  and  returned  it  to  the 
Flopper  without  comment. 

Robert  Thornton,  master  of  millions,  hard- 
headed  and  practical  for  all  his  youth,  leaned 
forward  in  his  chair  toward  the  Flopper. 


io4  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  Look  here,"  he  said  bluntly,  "  you  don't  mean 
to  say  that  you  believe  this  seriously,  do  you?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  the  Flopper  softly.  "  Nothin' 
like  dat !  Of  course  I  don't  believe  it !  I'm  only 
guyin'  myself  —  see?  I'm  just  goin'  dere  fer 
fun  —  an'  spendin'  me  last  red  to  get  dere. 
Say  " — his  voice  snapped — "  wot  do  youse  t'ink 
I  am,  anyway?  " 

"  Surely,  Robert,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton  gently, 
"  it  is  evident  enough  that  he  believes  it." 

Thornton  did  not  look  at  her  —  he  was  still 
gazing  at  the  Flopper,  his  brows  knitted. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  like  this?  "  he  de- 
manded sharply. 

"  All  me  life,"  said  the  Flopper.  "  I  was  born 
dat  way." 

"  And  you  expect  to  go  down  here  and  by  some 
means,  which  I  must  confess  is  quite  beyond  my 
ability  to  grasp,  be  cured  in  a  miraculous  man- 
ner! " — Thornton  smiled  tolerantly. 

"  Sure,  I  do !  "  asserted  the  Flopper  doggedly. 
"  If  he's  done  it  fer  de  crowd  dere,  why  can't  he 
do  it  fer  me?  Didn't  de  postmaster  say  all  yer 
gotter  have  is  faith?  Well,  I  got  de  faith  —  an' 
I  got  it  hard  enough  to  stake  all  I  got  on  it.  Dis 
time  to-morrow  —  say,  dis  time  to-morrow  I 
wouldn't  change  places  wid  any  man  in  de  United 
States." 

Thornton's  tolerant  smile  deepened. 

"  I  guess  you're  sincere  enough,"  he  said;  "  and 
I'm  not  trying  to  cut  the  ground  of  hope  out  from 
under  your  feet,  as  you  put  it  out  on  the  platform 


THE  BAIT  IS  NIBBLED  105 

—  but  it  seems  to  me  that  it  is  only  the  kindly 
thing  to  do  to  warn  you  that  the  more  faith  you 
put  in  a  thing  like  this  the  worse  you  are  making 
it  for  yourself  —  you  are  laying  up  a  bitter  disap- 
pointment in  store  that  can  only  make  your  pres- 
ent misfortune  the  more  unbearable." 

The  Flopper  shook  his  head. 

"  If  he's  done  it  fer  others,  he  can  do  it  fer 
me,"  he  repeated,  with  unshaken  conviction. 
"An'  dat  goes  —  I  can't  lose." 

Thornton  tilted  his  chair  back  again,  and  stared 
at  the  Flopper  with  pitying  incredulity. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment;  then  Mrs. 
Thornton  spoke. 

"  Robert,"  she  said  slowly,  "  I  want  to  stop  at 
Needley." 

The  front  legs  of  Thornton's  chair  came  down 
on  the  heavy  carpet  with  a  dull  thud,  and  he 
whirled  around  in  his  seat  to  stare  at  his  wife. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,  Naida,"  he  gasped, 
"  that  you've  got  faith  in  this  thing,  too !  " 

"No;  not  faith,"  she  answered  pathetically. 
"  I  hardly  dare  to  hope.  I  have  hoped  so  much 
in  the  last  year,  and  — " 

"  But  this  is  sheer  nonsense  I "  Thornton 
broke  in  with  irritable  impatience.  "  I  can  under- 
stand this  man  here,  in  a  way  —  he  has  the  super- 
stition, if  you  like  to  call  it  that,  due  to  lack  of 
education,  if  he'll  pardon  my  saying  so  in  his  pres- 
ence; but  you,  Naida,  surely  you  can't  take  any 
stock  in  it !  " 

She  smiled  at  him  a  little  wanly. 


.io6  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  I  have  told  you  that  I  didn't  even  dare  to 
hope,"  she  said.  "  But  I  want  to  see  —  I  want 
to  see.  I  have  tried  sanatoriums  and  consulted 
specialists  until  it  has  all  become  a  nightmare  to 
me  and  I  am  no  better  —  I  sometimes  think  I 
never  shall  be  any  better." 

"  But,"  exploded  Thornton,  rising  from  his 
chair,  "  that's  nothing  to  do  with  this  —  this  is 
rank  foolishness!  Nurse,  you — " 

Miss  Harvey,  too,  had  risen,  and  was  regarding 
Mrs.  Thornton  anxiously. 

"  It  is  better  to  humor  her  than  to  excite  her," 
she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

Mrs.  Thornton  had  dropped  back  on  the  couch 
and  her  face  was  turned  away  from  the  others, 
but  she  stretched  out  her  hand  to  her  husband. 

"  I  am  not  asking  very  much,  Robert,  dear  — 
am  I?"  she  said.  "Not  very  much.  Won't 
you  do  this  for  me?  " 

Thornton  bit  his  lips  and  scowled  at  the  Flop- 
per. 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  he  muttered  —  and 
moving  to  the  side  of  the  car  pushed  a  bell-button 
viciously.  "  Sam,"  he  snapped,  as  his  colored 
man  appeared,  "  go  and  tell  the  conductor  that  I 
want  my  car  put  off  on  the  siding  at  Needley." 
'  Yes,  sah,"  said  Sam. 

Thornton  sat  down  again  heavily. 

"  Mabbe,"  announced  the  Flopper  tactfully, 
"  mabbe  I'd  better  be  gettin'  back  to  me  valise  — 
we're  most  dere,  ain't  we?  " 

Mrs.  Thornton  turned  toward  him. 


THE  BAIT  IS  NIBBLED  107 

"  No ;  please  don't  go,  Mr.  Coogan  —  it's  toe- 
hard  for  you  to  get  through  the  train.  Sam  will 
get  your  things  as  soon  as  he  comes  back.  Do 
stay  right  where  you  are  until  we  get  to  Needley." 

"  No;  don't  think  of  going,  Mr.  Coogan,"  said 
Thornton  savagely. 

The  Flopper  looked  at  Mrs.  Thornton  grate- 
fully, and  at  Mr.  Thornton  thoughtfully. 

;'  T'anks !  "  said  the  Flopper  pleasantly  —  and 
wriggled  himself  into  a  more  comfortable  posi- 
tion in  his  chair. 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  train,  that  stopped  only 
on  signal  to  discharge  eastbound  passengers  from 
Portland,  drew  up  at  Needley  —  and  Hiram  Hig- 
gins,  on  the  platform,  stared  at  a  scene  never  be- 
fore witnessed  in  the  history  of  the  town. 

It  was  not  one  passenger,  or  two,  or  three,  that 
alighted  —  they  streamed  in  a  bewildering  fashion 
from  every  vestibule  of  every  car.  It  is  true  that 
the  majority  got  back  into  the  train  later,  but  that 
did  not  lessen  the  effect  any  on  Mr.  Higgins. 
Mr.  Higgins'  jaw  dropped,  and  he  grabbed  at  his 
chin  whiskers  for  support. 

"  Merciful   daylights !  "   he   breathed   heavily. 

"  Now  what  in  the  land's  sakes  be  it  all  about?  " 

(  His  eyes,  following  the  hurrying  passengers,  fixed 

on  the  twisted  shape  of  the  Flopper,  being  helped 

to  the  platform  from  the  private  car. 

'Three  cheers  for  Coogan!  "  yelled  some  ex- 
citable passenger. 

The  cheers  were  given  with  a  will. 

"  Good  luck  to  you,  Coogan !  "  shouted  another 


IDS  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

—  and  the  crowd  took  it  up  in  chorus:     "  Good 
luck  to  you,  Coogan !  " 

"  Coogan!  " —  Mr.  Higgins'  face  paled,  and 
he  took  a  firmer  grip  on  his  whiskers.  "  Now  if 
you  ain't  gone  an'  put  your  fool  foot  in  it,  Hiram 
Higgins,"  he  said  miserably.  "  If  that  there's 
the  fellow  that  you  writ  to,  you've  just  laid  out 
to  make  a  plumb  fool  of  the  Patriarch,  'cause  I 
reckon  the  Almighty  knew  His  own  mind  when 
He  made  a  critter  like  that,  an'  didn't  calc'late  to 
have  His  work  upsot  much  this  side  of  the  grave 

—  not  even  by  the  Patriarch." 


THE   PILGRIMAGE 

FAITH  is  an  inheritance  common  to  the 
human   race;   and  the  human   race  in 
its    daily    life,    in    its    daily    dealings, 
man  to  man,  could  not  go  on  without 
it  —  but  faith  is  a  matter  of  degree.     Faith,  in 
the  abstract,  the  element  of  it,  is  inborn  in  every 
soul;  and  while  dormant,  until  put  to  a  crucial 
test  along  any  given  line,   is  boundless  and  un- 
limited—  a    sort    of    tacitly    accepted,    existing 
state,  unquestioned.     Faith  in  many  is  a  sturdy, 
virile  thing  —  to  a  certain  point.     It  is  the  fire 
that  proves. 

Needley  had  faith  in  the  Patriarch  —  a  faith 
that  never  before  had  been  questioned.  But 
Needley  had  more  than  that  —  Needley  held  the 
Patriarch  in  affection,  as  a  cherished  thing,  almost 
sacredly,  almost  as  an  idol.  Faith  the  simple 
people  of  Needley  had  always  had  —  to  a  certain 
point  —  but  it  faltered  before  this  grotesque,  in- 
human, twisted  shape  that  squatted  in  the  road 
before  the  Congress  Hotel  like  a  hideous  carica- 
ture of  an  abnormal  toad.  Their  faith  failed  to 
bridge  the  span  that  gave  the  Patriarch  power 
over  such  as  this,  and  they  saw  their  idol  shattered 

109 


no  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

in  their  own  eyes,  and  held  up  to  mockery  before 
the  eyes  of  these  strangers  who  had  so  suddenly 
and  tempestuously  swarmed  upon  them. 

Hiram  Higgins,  seeking  out  Doc  Madison  in- 
side the  hotel,  was  in  a  state  bordering  on  distrac- 
tion. 

"  I  druve  him  over  from  the  station  'cause  he 
couldn't  walk,  him  an'  a  man,  an'  two  women,  an' 
a  wheel-chair,"  Mr.  Higgins  explained.  "  But 
what's  to  be  done  now?  He  wants  me  to  drive 
him  out  to  the  Patriarch's.  I  got  faith  in  the 
Patriarch,  but  I  never  said  he  could  work  miracles 
—  there  ain't  no  one  on  earth  could  straighten 
that  critter  out.  Don't  stand  to  reason  that  the 
Patriarch's  to  be  made  a  fool  of." 

"  Certainly  not,"  agreed  Madison  emphatically. 
"  It's  most  unfortunate.  I  suppose  all  of  us  here 
in  Needley  " —  he  looked  around  at  the  assembled 
group  of  leading  citizens  — "  feel  the  same  way, 
too?" 

"  Of  course  we  do,"  said  Mr.  Higgins  help- 
lessly. "  Couldn't  feel  no  ways  else." 

Madison  laid  his  hand  suddenly,  impressively, 
upon  Mr.  Higgins'  shoulder  and  looked  mean- 
ingly into  Mr.  Higgins'  eyes  —  and  into  the  eyes 
of  the  selectmen,  the  overseers  of  the  poor,  the 
general-store  proprietor,  and  the  school  com- 
mittee. 

"  Don't  drive  him  over,  then,"  he  said  signif- 
icantly. "  Don't  any  of  the  rest  of  you  do  it 
either  —  and  tell  everybody  else  not  to.  Make 
him  crawl.  If  he's  determined  to  go,  let  him  get 


THE  PILGRIMAGE  in 

there  by  himself  if  he  can,  make  him  crawl  —  he'll 
never  be  able  to  do  it." 

"  That's  so,"  said  Mr.  Higgins,  brightening, 
while  the  others  nodded;  then,  dubiously:  "  But 
s'pose  he  does  get  there  —  how  be  we  goin'  to 
stop  him?  " 

"  If  he  can  get  there  by  himself  you  can't  stop 
him,"  said  Madison  seriously.  "  You  can't  do 
anything  like  that.  To  use  force  would  be  car- 
rying things  too  far,  and  would  only  place  the 
Patriarch  in  a  worse  light.  If  this  fellow  — 
what's  his  name?  —  Coogan?  —  can  crawl  there, 
let  him  —  that's  his  own  business.  None  of  us 
are  encouraging  him,  the  Patriarch  didn't  ask  him 
to  come,  and  no  one  has  a  right  to  expect  miracles 
—  so  it  can't  hurt  the  Patriarch  seriously  under 
those  conditions.  Besides,  if  this  Coogan  has  got 
faith  enough  to  crawl  that  mile,  who  knows  what 
might  happen  —  make  him  crawl." 

Mr.  Higgins,  with  a  grim  nod,  headed  a  de- 
termined exodus  from  the  hotel  office  —  and! 
Madison  strolled  out  onto  the  veranda. 

Needley  was  in  a  furor.  The  news  spread  like 
an  oil-fed  conflagration.  The  farmers  left  their 
work  in  the  fields  and  hurried  into  the  village; 
from  the  houses  and  cottages  came  the  women 
and  children  to  cluster  around  the  Congress  Hotel; 
from  the  station,  scarcely  of  less  interest  to  the 
inhabitants  than  the  Flopper  himself,  straggled  in 
those  curious  enough  to  have  left  the  train,  nearly 
a  dozen  of  them  —  and  amongst  them  Pale  Face 
Harry  coughed,  as  he  trudged  laboriously  along. 


H2  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Larger  and  larger  grew  the  circle  around  the 
Flopper,  filling  and  blocking  the  road,  overflow- 
ing into  front  yards,  and  massing  on  the  little 
lawn  of  the  hotel  clear  up  to  the  veranda  —  until 
fields  and  houses  were  deserted,  and  to  the  last 
inhabitant  Needley  was  there. 

Upon  the  ground  squatted  the  Flopper,  his  eyes 
sweeping  the  ring  of  faces  that  was  like  a  wall 
around  him  —  the  grinning  faces  of  his  fellow 
passengers  from  the  train;  the  stony,  concerned 
and  rather  sullen  faces  of  the  men  of  Needley;  the 
anxious,  excited  faces  of  the  women;  the  bewil- 
dered, curious  and  somewhat  frightened  faces  of 
the  children,  who  pushed  and  shoved  their  elders 
for  better  vantage  ground. 

The  Flopper  licked  his  lips,  and  renewed  the 
appeal  he  had  been  making  for  nearly  five  min- 
utes. 

"  Ain't  no  one  goin*  to  'drive  me  out  to  de 
Patriarch's?" 

"  Horses  are  all  busy  in  the  fields,"  said  a  voice, 
uncompromisingly. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Flopper,  with  bitter  irony, 
"  drivin'  each  other  around,  while  youse  are  here 
starin'  at  me  an'  won't  help." 

His  eyes  caught  Doc  Madison's  from  the  ve- 
randa and  held  an  instant  to  read  a  message  and 
interpret  the  almost  imperceptible,  but  significant, 
movement  of  Madison's  head. 

"  Gee !  "  said  the  Flopper  to  himself,  as  his 
eyes  swept  the  faces  around  him  again.  "  Dis  is 
a  nice  game  de  Doc's  planted  on  me  —  he  wants 


THE  PILGRIMAGE  113 

me  to  do  de  wiggle  out  dere  fer  de  rubes !  Ain't 
dey  a  peachy  lot  —  look  at  de  saucer  eyes  on  de 
kids!" 

Mrs.  .Thornton,  in  her  wheel-chair  on  the 
inner  edge  of  the  circle,  turned  to  her  husband. 

"  It's  very  strange  that  no  one  seems  willing 
to  drive  him,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  not  very,"  responded  Thornton,  with  a 
short  laugh.  "  I  don't  blame  them  —  they  don't 
want  this  healer  of  theirs  made  a  monkey  of." 

"If  no  one  will  drive  him,  he  shall  have  my 
wheel-chair,"  announced  Mrs.  Thornton  impul- 
sively. "  I  think  it  is  a  perfect  shame  —  the  poor 
man!" 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  Thornton  gruffly.  "  You'll 
do  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  Yes,  Robert,  I  will,"  declared  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton with  determination.  She  leaned  forward  and 
called  to  the  Flopper.  "  Mr.  Coogan,"  she  said 
anxiously,  "  if  you  can't  find  any  other  way  of 
getting  out  there,  I  want  you  to  take  this  chair  of 
mine  —  you'll  be  able  to  manage  with  it,  I  am 
sure." 

The  Flopper  looked  at  her  with  gratitude  — 
but  shook  his  head  —  mindful  of  Doc  Madison. 

"  T'anks,  mum,"  he  said,  "  but  I  couldn't  t'ink 
of  it  —  you  needs  it  more'n  me." 

"  Please  do,"  she  insisted. 

"  T'anks,  mum,"  said  the  Flopper  again,  "  but 
I  couldn't  You  needs  it,  an'  I  can  get  along 
widout  it.  Dey're  stallin'  on  me,  but  I  can  get 
dere  by  myself  if  any  one'll  show  me  de  way." 


ii4  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  I'll  show  you,  mister,"  piped  a  shrill  voice  — 
and  young  Holmes  on  his  crutch  hopped  into  the 
circle.  "  I'll  show  you,  mister  —  an'  'tain't  fur, 
neither." 

"  Swipe  me!  "  muttered  the  Flopper,  as  he  sur- 
veyed the  lad.  "  Dis  is  de  limit  fer  fair!  "  Per- 
turbed and  uncertain  what  to  do,  he  tried  to  catch 
Doc  Madison's  eye  again,  but  a  movement  in  the 
crowd  had  hidden  Madison. 

Some  one  in  the  crowd,  the  lingerie  drummer, 
getting  the  grim  humor  of  the  situation,  laughed 
—  and  the  laugh  came  like  a  challenge,  taunting 
the  quick-tempered,  turbulent  soul  of  the  Flop- 
per. 

"  Come  on,  mister!  "  urged  the  boy  excitedly. 
"  'Tain't  fur—  I'll  show  you." 

"  God  bless  you,  son,"  said  the  Flopper,  while 
he  flung  an  inward  curse  at  the  man  who  had 
laughed.  "  Son,  God  bless  you  fer  yer  good 
heart  —  go  ahead  —  I'll  stick  to  you." 

The  crowd  opened,  making  a  lane  through 
which  the  boy  stumped  on  his  crutch,  his  face 
flushed  and  eager,  and  through  which  the  Flopper 
followed,  slowly,  rocking  from  side  to  side  as  he 
helped  himself  along  with  the  palm  of  his  left 
hand  flat  in  the  dust  of  the  road,  trailing  his  wob- 
bling leg  behind  him. 

The  crowd  closed  in  behind  and  moved  for- 
ward. 

Mrs.  Thornton's  face  was  fever-flushed,  her 
eyes  bright;  in  her  weak  state  she  was  on  the 
verge  of  nervous  hysteria. 


THE  PILGRIMAGE  115] 

"  I  want  to  go,  Robert,"  she  cried.  "  I  must 
go." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  protested  Thornton  harshly, 
"  this  is  simply  the  height  of  absurdity.  For 
Heaven's  sake  be  sensible,  Naida.  Just  imagine 
what  people  would  say  if  they  saw  us  here  with 
this  outfit  of  idiots  —  they'd  think  we'd  gone 
mad." 

"  I  don't  care  what  they'd  think,"  she  returned 
feverishly,  her  frail  fingers  plucking  nervously  at 
the  arms  of  her  chair.  "  I  must  go  —  I  must  — 
I  must." 

Thornton  glanced  at  the  nurse,  then  stared  at 
his  wife  —  Miss  Harvey's  meaning  look  was 
hardly  necessary  to  drive  home  to  him  the  fact 
that  Mrs.  Thornton  was  in  no  condition  to  be  de- 
nied anything. 

Red-faced,  Thornton  strode  to  the  back  of  the 
chair  and  began  to  push  it  along. 

"  Of  all  the  damned  foolishness  that  ever  I 
heard  of,"  he  gritted  savagely,  "  this  is  the 
worst!  "  His  face  went  redder  still  with  mortifi- 
cation. "  If  this  ever  leaks  out  I'll  never  hear 
the  last  of  it.  Look  at  us  —  bringing  up  the  rear 
of  a  gibbering  mob  of  yokels !  We're  fit  for  a 
padded  cell!" 

In  the  crowd,  Madison  rubbed  shoulders  for  a 
moment  with  Pale  Face  Harry. 

"  Who's  the  party  with  the  wheel-chair  be- 
hind? "  he  asked. 

"  Millionaire  —  Chicago  —  private  car  — 
Flopper's  got  the  wife  going  hard  —  rode  down 


n6  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

with  them,"  coughed  Pale  Face  Harry  behind  his 
hand. 

"  I  guess  I'll  get  acquainted,"  said  Madison. 
"  Circulate,  Harry,  and  cough  your  head  off  — < 
don't  hide  your  light  under  a  bushel  —  circulate." 
And  Madison  fell  back  to  scrape  acquaintance 
with  the  man  of  millions. 

Close-packed  upon  the  road,  the  procession 
spread  out  for  a  hundred  yards  behind  the  Flop- 
per  —  bare-footed  children;  women  in  multi-col- 
ored gingham  and  calico ;  men  in  the  uncouth  dress 
of  the  fields,  the  uncouthness  accentuated  by  the 
sprinkling  of  more  pretentious  clothing  worn  by 
those  who  had  come  from  the  train.  And  slowly, 
very  slowly,  this  conglomerate  human  cosmorama 
moved  on,  undulating  queerly  with  the  variant 
movements  of  its  component  parts,  snail-like,  for 
the  Flopper's  pace  was  slow  —  as  strange  a  spec- 
tacle, perhaps,  as  the  human  eye  had  ever  wit- 
nessed, something  of  grimness,  something  of 
humor,  something  of  awe,  something  of  fear  ex- 
uding from  it  —  it  seemed  to  contain  within  itself 
the  range,  and  to  express,  the  gamut  of  all  human 
emotion. 

On  the  procession  went  —  so  slowly  as  to  be 
almost  sinister  in  its  movement.  And  a  strange 
sound  rose  from  it  and  seemed  to  float  and  hover 
over  it  like  a  weird,  invisible,  acoustic  canopy. 
Three  hundred  voices,  men's,  women's  and  chil- 
dren's, rose  and  fell,  rose  and  fell  —  at  first  in  a 
medley  of  scoffings,  laughter,  sullen  murmurs, 
earnest  dispute  and  children's  prattle  —  a  strange 


THE  PILGRIMAGE  117 

composite  sound  indeed!  But  as  the  minutes 
passed  and  the  mass  moved  on  and  stopped  as  the 
Flopper  paused  to  rest,  and  moved  on  and  stopped 
and  moved  on  again,  gradually  this  changed,  very 
gradually,  not  abruptly,  but  as  though  the  scoffings 
and  the  laughter  were  dying  away  almost  imper- 
ceptibly in  the  distance.  For  as  the  Flopper 
stopped  to  rest,  those  near  him  gazed  upon  his 
face,  distorted,  full  of  muscular  distress,  sweat 
pouring  from  his  forehead,  pain  and  suffering 
written  in  every  lineament  —  and  drew  back  whis- 
pering into  the  crowd,  giving  place  to  others  until 
all  had  seen.  And  so  the  strange  sound  from  this 
strange  congregation  grew  lower,  until  it  was  a 
sort  of  breathless,  long-sustained  and  wavering 
note,  a  prescience,  a  premonition  of  something  to 
come,  a  ghastly  mockery  or  a  tragedy  to  befall, 
until  it  was  an  awe-struck  murmuring  thing. 

Some  spoke  to  him  now  and  in  pity  offered  to 
get  him  a  horse  and  wagon,  offered  even  to  carry 
him  —  but  the  Flopper  shook  his  head. 

"  'Tain't  goin'  to  be  but  a  few  minutes  now," 
he  panted  in  an  exalted  voice,  "  before  I'm  cured 
—  I  got  de  faith  to  know  dat  —  I  got  de  faith." 

And  the  crippled  lad  upon  the  crutch  beside 
him  urged  him  on.  The  boy's  face  was  strained 
and  eager,  full  of  mingled  emotions  —  pride  in 
the  leading  part  he  played,  wonder  and  expect- 
ancy. 

"  Come  on,  mister,  come  on !  "  he  kept  saying, 
impatiently  accommodating  his  own  restricted  pace 
to  the  Flopper's  still  slower  one. 


:n8  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Through  the  wagon  track,  through  the  woods 
beneath  the  trees,  the  dead,  slow,  shuffling  tread 
went  on  —  and  now  even  the  murmuring  sound 
was  hushed.  Men  and  women  stared  into  each 
other's  faces  —  children  sought  their  elders' 
hands.  What  did  it  mean?  Faith  —  yes,  they 
had  had  faith  —  but  never  faith  like  this.  They 
looked  at  the  awful  deformity  over  one  another's 
heads,  crawling  inch  by  inch  along  before  them  — 
watched  the  stubborn,  bitter  struggle  of  pain  and 
suffering  of  the  wretched  man  who  led  them, 
spurred  on  by  a  faith  cast  in  a  heroic  mold  such 
as  none  there  had  ever  dreamed  of  before  —  and 
they  spoke  no  more.  There  was  only  the  sound 
of  movement  now  —  and  that  curiously  subdued. 
Men  seemed  to  choose  their  footing,  seeking  to 
tread  noiselessly,  as  though  in  some  solemn  pres- 
ence that  awed  them  and  held  them  in  an  in- 
tangible, heart-quickening  suspense. 

Onward  they  went  —  following  the  lurching, 
wriggling,  reeling,  broken  thing  before  them  — 
following  the  Flopper,  his  right  hand  and  arm 
curved  piteously  inward  to  his  chin,  his  neck 
thrown  sideways,  his  sagging  leg  seeming  to  hold 
only  to  his  body  by  spasmodic  jerks  to  catch  up 
with  the  body  itself,  like  the  steel  when  detached 
from  the  magnet  that  bounds  forward  to  re-attach 
itself  again,  his  eyes  starting  from  his  head,  his 
face  bloodless  with  exertion  and  twisted  as  fear- 
fully as  were  his  limbs,  but  upon  his  lips  a  smile  of 
resolution,  of  indomitable  assurance. 

Onward  they  went  —  a  huddled  mass  of  hu- 


THE  PILGRIMAGE  119 

manity,  literate  and  illiterate,  of  all  ages,  of  all 
conditions,  and  none  laughed,  none  grinned,  none 
smiled,  none  spoke  —  all  that  was  past.  They 
stopped,  they  moved  again  —  as  the  Flopper 
stopped  and  moved.  Occasionally  a  child  cried 
out  —  occasionally  there  came  a  discordant,  rack- 
ing cough  —  that  was  all. 

Tenser  grew  the  very  atmosphere  they  breathed 

—  heavier  upon  them  fell  the  sense  of  something 
almost  supernatural,  beyond  the  human  and  the 
finite.     Skeptic  and  faint  believer,  sinner,  Chris- 
tian and  scoffer,  they  were  all  alike  now  in  the 
presence  of  a  faith  whose  evidence  was  before 
them  in  harrowing  vividness,  in  the  torment  and 
agony   of   a    fellow  creature  who   sought   again 
through  faith  a  restoration  to  the  image  of  his 
kind.     There  was  no  creed,  no  school  of  ethical 
belief,  no  conflicting  orthodoxy  to  quibble  over, 
no  ground  on  which  atheist  and  theologian  even 
might   stand   apart  —  there   was   only  faith  —  a 
faith  whose  trappings  none  might  take  issue  with, 
for  it  was  naked  faith  and  the  trappings  were 
stripped  from  it  —  it  was  faith  in  its  very  essence, 
boundless,  utter,  simple,  limitless,  staggering,  ap- 
palling them. 

Its  consummation?     That  was  another  thing 

—  a  thing  that  in  the  presence  of  such  faith  as 
this  brought  human  pity,  sympathy  and  sorrow  to 
its  full,  brought  dread  and  terror.     Faith  such  as 
this  they  had  never  conceived;  faith  such  as  this, 
if  it  was  to  prove  a  shattered  thing,  was  for  its 
exponent  to  drink  the  very  dregs  of  misery  and 


I2O 

despair  —  and  yet,  rising  above  that  possibility, 
flinging  grim  challenge  at  their  doubts,  stood  this 
very  faith,  mighty  in  itself,  perfect  in  its  confi- 
dence, heroic  in  its  agony,  that  all  might  gaze 
upon  from  a  common  standpoint  and  know  —  as 
faith. 

No  whispering  breeze  stirred  the  young  leaves 
in  the  trees;  in  the  stillness  of  the  afternoon  came 
only  the  heavy,  pulsing  throb  of  Nature's  breath- 
ing. One  hundred,  two,  three  hundred,  they 
moved  along,  slow,  sinuous,  troubled,  their  eyes 
straight  before  them  or  upon  the  ground  at  their 
feet  —  only  the  children  looked  with  frightened, 
startled  eyes  into  their  parents'  faces,  and  clung 
the  closer. 

Out  upon  the  wagon  track  they  debouched  and 
spread  in  a  long,  thin  line  beneath  the  maples  on 
either  side  of  the  Flopper  = —  and  waited. 


—  X  — 

THE  MIRACLE 

THERE    was   utter    silence    now  —  the 
tread  of  shuffling  feet  was  gone  —  no 
man  moved  —  it  seemed  as  though  no 
man  breathed  —  they  stood  as  carven 
things,    inanimate,    men,    women    and    children 
strained  forward,   their  faces  drawn,  tense  and 
rigid.     In  the  very  air,  around  them,  everywhere, 
imprisoning  them,  clutching  like  an  icy  hand  at 
the  heart,  something  unseen,  a  dread,  intangible 
presence  weighed  them  down  and  lay  heavy  upon 
them.     What  was  to  come?     What  drear  tragedy 
was  to  be  enacted?     What  awful  mockery  was  to 
fall   upon   this   maimed   and   mutilated   creature 
within  whose  deformed  and  pitiful  body  there  too 
was  a  human  soul  ? 

From  the  cottage  door  across  the  lawn  came 
two  figures  —  a  girl  in  simple,  clinging  white,  her 
head  bowed,  the  sun  itself  seeming  to  caress  the 
dark  brown  wealth  of  hair  upon  her  head,  chang- 
ing it  to  glinting  strands  of  burnished  copper;  and 
beside  her  walked  the  Patriarch,  his  hand  resting 
lightly  upon  her  arm,  a  wondrous  figure  of  a  man, 
majestic,  simple,  grand,  his  silvered-hair  bared  to 
the  sun,  his  face  illumined. 

121 


122  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  There  he  is,  mister!"  whispered  young 
Holmes  hoarsely.  "  There  he  is !  Go  on,  mis- 
ter, go  on  —  see  what  he  can  do  for  you !  " 

There  came  a  sound  that  was  like  a  great, 
gasping  intake  of  breath,  as  men  and  women 
watched.  Out  toward  the  Patriarch,  alone  now, 
the  Flopper  began  to  wriggle  and  writhe  his  way 
along.  God  in  Heaven  have  pity !  What  was 
this  sight  they  looked  upon  —  this  poor,  distorted, 
mangled  thing  that  grovelled  in  the  earth  —  that 
figure  towering  there  in  the  sunlight  with  vener- 
able white  beard  and  hair,  erect,  symbolic  of  some 
strange,  mystic  power  that  awed  them,  his  head 
turned  slightly  in  a  curious  listening  attitude,  the 
sightless  eyes  closed,  upon  the  face  a  great  calm 
like  a  solemn  benediction. 

Fell  a  stillness  that  was  as  the  stillness  of  death; 
came  a  hush  until  in  men's  ears  was  the  quick,  fierce 
pound  and  throb  of  their  own  hearts.  On,  on 
toward  the  Patriarch  slithered  and  twisted  that 
frightful  deformity  that  they  had  followed  over 
that  long,  torturing  mile  —  on,  on  he  went,  and 
they  watched  scarce  drawing  breath,  their  faces 
white,  their  very  limbs  held  as  in  a  palsied,  fear- 
some spell  —  and  then,  sudden,  abrupt,  terrifying, 
there  rose  a  shriek,  wild,  hysterical,  prolonged,  in 
a  woman's  voice,  the  cadence  wavering  from  gut- 
tural to  shrill  and  ending  in  a  high-pitched,  broken 
scream. 

The  Flopper  halted  and  turned  himself  about, 
while  his  left  hand  swept  his  livid  face,  brushing 
from  it  the  spurting  drops,  sweeping  back  the 


THE  MIRACLE  123 

damp,  tangled  hair  from  his  eyes  —  faced  them 
till  they  saw  an  agony  on  human  countenance 
that  struck,  stabbing,  to  their  souls  —  faced 
them  while  his  eyes  traversed  the  long,  long  line 
of  ghastly  white  faces  before  him,  out  of  which 
eyes  everywhere,  row  on  row  of  them,  straining, 
fixed,  fascinated,  seemed  to  burn  like  living  fires 
as  they  held  him  in  their  focus. 

He  had  not  gone  far,  perhaps  ten  yards  —  no 
more.  By  the  group  around  the  wheel-chair,  al- 
most in  the  center  of  the  line,  stood  Madison,  his 
chin  in  his  hand  in  a  meditative,  thoughtful  atti- 
tude, the  single  soul  who  watched  the  scene  from 
under  lowered  lids;  Thornton  had  involuntarily 
edged  a  little  forward  from  behind  the  chair  until 
he  stood  now  at  its  side  in  a  strange,  abashed  way 
as  though  his  own  personality  were  over-ruled, 
obliterated,  his  face  with  a  white  sternness  upon  it, 
his  eyes,  like  all  other  eyes,  agleam  with  an  un- 
natural fire;  Mrs.  Thornton  had  pulled  herself 
forward  in  the  chair,  one  hand  clutching  at  her 
breast,  the  frail  fingers  of  the  other  woven  in  a 
grasp  so  tight  around  the  arm  of  the  chair  that 
the  flesh  was  bloodless;  a  little  way  off,  a  group  of 
three,  the  two  salesmen  and  the  metropolitan  news- 
paper man,  seemed  as  though  stricken  into  stone, 
stripped  of  all  assurance,  all  complacence,  awed, 
tense,  palpitant,  as  the  patched,  bare-legged  tat- 
terdemalion of  ten  from  the  fields,  that  stood  be- 
side them,  was  awed  and  tense  and  palpitant. 

And  away  on  either  side  stretched  the  line  of 
white,  rigid  faces,  the  never-ending,  burning  eyes 


124  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

—  but  the  silence  with  that  shriek  was  gone  now, 
for  another  woman  and  another,  overwrought, 
needing  but  that  sudden  shock  to  unnerve  them 
utterly,  shrieked  in  turn  —  and  through  the  line 
seemed  to  run  a  shudder,  and  it  moved  a  little 
though  no  foot  stirred,  moved  with  a  strange,  sinu- 
ous, rocking,  swaying  movement,  from  the  hips, 
backward  and  forward  and  to  either  side.  Men 
raised  their  eyes,  stole  frightened,  questioning 
glances  at  their  neighbors  —  and  fixed  their  eyes 
on  the  Flopper  again  —  on  the  Flopper  and  that 
majestic  figure  in  the  center  of  the  lawn,  so  calm 
of  mien,  of  attitude  and  pose. 

Once  again  the  Flopper's  eyes  swept  the  scene. 
A  few  feet  in  advance  of  the  crowd,  as  though 
drawn  irresistibly  forward,  young  Holmes  hung 
upon  his  crutch.  The  boy's  soul  seemed  in  his 
face  —  hope,  a  world  of  it,  as  he  gazed  at  the  Pa- 
triarch, sickening  fear  as  he  looked  at  the  Flopper; 
his  lips  moving  without  sound,  his  body  trembling 
with  emotional  excitement.  Still  once  again  the 
Flopper's  eyes  swept  the  line  of  men  and  women 
and  children,  fast  reaching  toward  a  common  un- 
governable hysteria  —  and  then  he  turned  with  an 
unbalanced,  impotent,  broken  movement,  flung  out 
his  good  arm  toward  the  Patriarch  in  piteous  sup- 
plication, and,  jerking  himself  forward,  went  on. 

Slowly,  very  slowly  at  first,  he  resumed  his  way, 
crawling  it  seemed  by  no  more  than  a  painful  inch 
on  inch,  in  mortal  pain,  in  mortal  agony  and  strug- 
gle —  then  gradually  his  movements  began  to 
quicken,  ^s  though  growing  upon  him  were  a  mad, 


THE  MIRACLE  1*5. 

elated  haste  that  he  could  not  control  —  quicker 
and  quicker  he  went,  pitching  and  lurching  wildly 
from  a  pace  that  was  beyond  him. 

A  strange,  low,  moaning  sound  rose  from  be- 
hind him,  fluttering,  inarticulate,  that  voiceless  ut- 
terance that  seeks  to  find  some  vent  for  human 
emotion  when  human  emotion  sweeps  with  mighty 
surge  to  engulf  the  soul.  It  rose  and  died  away 
and  rose  again  —  and  died  away  —  and  children 
began  to  whimper  with  a  fear  and  terror  that  they 
did  not  understand,  and  seeking  solace  in  their 
elders'  faces  found  added  cause  for  fear  instead. 

Nearer  to  that  saintly  figure  who  stood  so  calm, 
so  quiet,  the  massive  white-locked  head  still  turned 
a  little  in  that  curious  listening  attitude,  beside 
whom,  close  drawn  now,  was  that  white-clad  girl- 
ish form,  whose  eyes  were  lowered,  whose  sweet 
face  seemed  to  hold  a  heaven  of  pity  and  infinite 
compassion,  upon  whose  lips  there  was  a  smile  of 
divine  tenderness,  drew  that  piteous  mockery  of 
the  image  of  a  man,  whose  every  movement  ap- 
peared one  of  agony  beyond  human  power  to  en- 
dure —  and  the  agony  found  echo  in  the  watchers* 
souls,  and  a  low,  muffled  groan  as  of  men  in  pain 
and  hurt,  ran  tremulously  along  the  line. 

Still  nearer  to  the  Patriarch  drew  the  Flopper. 
More  heart-rending  was  his  every  movement,  for 
with  his  quickened  pace  he  sought  to  move  without 
the  aid  of  the  only  member  that  was  as  other 
men's,  his  left  hand  and  arm  that,  in  pleading, 
yearning  supplication,  was  stretched  out  before 
him  to  the  Patriarch. 


126  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

The  extreme  ends  of  the  long  line  of  watchers 
curled  a  little  inward,  almost  imperceptibly,  a  half 
step  taken  without  volition.  The  crippled  boy, 
swaying  upon  his  crutch,  his  lips  parted,  trembling 
in  every  limb,  edged  forward  hesitantly,  fearfully, 
now  a  foot,  now  another,  now  the  bare  space  of  a 
single  inch.  And  now  down  the  entire  length  of 
the  line  from  end  to  end  that  wavering,  rocking 
movement  in  swaying,  pregnant  unison  grew 
stronger  —  men  knew  not  what  they  did  —  it 
seemed  the  very  air  they  breathed  must  smother 
them  —  and,  in  that  dull,  weird,  lingering  note, 
rose  again  the  sound  of  moaning  that  seemed  to 
beat  in  consonance  with  the  distant  mournful 
rhythm  of  the  endless  beat  of  surf  on  shore. 

Women  clutched  at  their  breasts  now;  men's 
knuckles  went  white  beneath  the  tight-drawn  skin; 
the  children  drew  behind  their  mothers'  skirts  and, 
terror-stricken,  cried  aloud.  Surcharged,  on  the 
edge,  the  bare  and  ragged  edge  of  frenzy  now 
was  every  man  and  woman  in  the  crowd. 
It  was  a  sight,  a  spectacle  that  racked  them 
in  every  fibre  of  their  beings,  that  stirred 
them  to  pity,  to  hope,  to  fear,  until  the  aw- 
ful misery  of  this  blighted  and  crawling  thing 
was  their  own  in  its  every  twitch  of  agony  —  that 
struck  them  with  a  terror,  the  greater  because  it 
was  indefinable,  a  prescience,  a  reaching  out  beyond 
human  realm,  the  invoking  of  a  supernal  power  — 
the  thought  of  which  very  power,  once  loosed, 
chilled  them  with  panic-dread. 

Yet  still  they  watched  —  it  was  beyond  their 


Mayflower  Photopay  Corporation. 

SCENE  FROM  THE  PHOTOPLAY.'  ; 


THE  MIRACLE  127 

power  to  turn  their  eyes  —  enthralled,  a  moaning, 
swaying,  rocking  mob,  they  watched.  Madness 
was  creeping  upon  them  rampant.  Like  a  mighty 
tide,  the  ocean  weight  behind  it,  hurling  itself 
against  flood-gates  that  could  never  stand,  it 
mounted  higher  and  higher;  and  already,  as  the 
water  first  seeps  between  the  gates,  grim  forecast 
of  what  was  to  come,  it  showed  itself  now  in  that 
long,  sobbing,  convulsive  inhalation,  in  that 
strange,  sinuous,  restless  movement. 

On  went  the  Flopper.  There  was  still  a  yard 
to  go  —  two  feet  —  one.  Stopped  in  a  sudden 
deathless  hush  was  all  sound.  The  Flopper  flung 
himself  forward  upon  his  face  at  the  Patriarch's 
feet.  Stopped  was  all  movement,  haggard  and 
tense  every  face,  strained  every  eye.  For  a  mo- 
ment that  seemed  to  span  eternity,  in  a  huddled 
heap,  that  crippled,  twisted  thing  lay  there  before 
them  motionless,  without  sign  of  life  —  the  ven- 
erable face  above  it,  still  intent,  still  listening, 
turned  slowly  downwards.  Then  there  was  a 
movement,  a  movement  that  blanched  the  watch- 
ing faces  to  a  more  pallid  white  —  that  dangling, 
wobbling  leg  drew  inward  slowly,  very  slowly,  and 
hip  and  knee,  as  though  guided  by  some  mighty 
power,  immutable,  supreme,  came  deliberately  into 
normal  form. 

A  shriek,  a  cry,  a  wail,  a  sob,  a  prayer  —  it 
came  now  unrestrained  —  hysteria  was  loosed  in 
a  mad  ungovernable  orgasm  —  men  clutched  at 
each  other  and  cowered,  hiding  their  faces  with 
their  hands  —  women  dropped  to  their  knees  and. 


128  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

sobbing,  screaming,  prayed.  Loud  it  rose,  the 
turmoil  of  human  souls  aghast  and  quailing  before 
a  manifestation  that  seemed  to  fling  them  face  to 
face,  uncovered,  naked,  before  the  awful  power 
and  majesty  and  might  of  Heaven  itself. 

They  looked  again  —  fearfully.  The  twisted 
thing  was  standing  now,  standing  but  still  de- 
formed —  with  crooked  neck,  with  curved,  bent, 
palsied  arm.  And  nearer  had  drawn  little 
Holmes,  his  head  thrust  forward,  shaking  as  with 
the  ague  as  he  gazed  on  the  group  before  him,  ob- 
livious to  all  else  around  him. 

A  twinge  of  frightful  torture  swept  the  Flop- 
per's  face  —  and  with  that  same  slow,  awful  de- 
liberation the  misshapen  arm  straightened  out. 
Men  cried  aloud  again  and  again  —  a  woman 
fainted,  another  here,  another  there  —  children 
wailed  and  ran,  some  shrieking,  some  whimper- 
ing, for  the  woods. 

Again  the  spasm  crossed  the  Flopper's  face,  a 
shuddering,  muscular  contortion  —  and  from  the 
shoulder  rose  his  head. 

Inward  drew  the  ends  of  the  line  of  paroxysm- 
stricken  people  —  not  far,  not  near  to  that  hal- 
lowed group  for  something  held  them  back;  but 
inward  gradually  until  the  line,  no  longer  straight, 
was  half  a  circle,  crescent  shaped.  Louder  came 
that  harrowing  medley  of  sounds,  its  component 
parts  voicing  the  uttermost  depths  of  the  soul  of 
each  separate  individual  man  and  woman  there  — 
some  moaned  in  terror;  some  prayed,  mumbling, 
still  upon  their  knees;  some  laughed  hoarsely, 


THE  MIRACLE  129; 

wildly,  their  senses  for  the  moment  gone;  and  some 
were  dumb;  and  some  shrieked  their  prayers  in 
frenzy.  Louder  it  grew  —  the  end  had  come  — 
that  deformed  thing  stood  erect,  a  perfect  man  — • 
he  turned  his  face  toward  them  —  he  stretched  out 
his  arms  —  and  they  answered  him  with  their 
wails,  their  sobs,  their  moans,  their  cries  —  they 
answered  him  in  their  terror,  in  their  shaken  senses, 
clutching  at  each  other  again  —  answered  him 
from  their  knees,  their  voices  hoarse  —  answered 
him  with  trembling  lips  and  tongues  that  would  not 
move. 

And  then  suddenly,  as  though  riven  where  they 
stood  and  kneeled  and  crouched,  all  movement 
ceased  —  and  every  heart  stood  still  as  ringing 
clear  above  all  else,  shocking  all  else  to  stunned, 
petrified  silence,  there  came  a  cry  —  a  cry  in  a 
young  voice.  It  rang  again  and  again,  trembling 
with  glad,  new  life,  vibrant,  a  cry  that  seemed  to 
thrill  with  chords  of  happiness  and  ecstasy  im- 
measurable. Again  it  came,  again,  exultant,  puls- 
ing with  a  mighty  joy  —  young  Holmes  had  flung 
his  crutch  from  him,  and,  with  outstretched  arms, 
was  running  toward  the  Patriarch  across  the  lawn. 

For  an  instant  more  that  stunned,  awed  silence 
held.  All  eyes  were  riveted  and  fixed  upon  the 
scene  —  none  looked  at  Madison  —  if  any  had 
they  would  have  seen  that  his  face  had  gone  an 
ivory  white. 


THE  AFTERMATH 

«*"»•  AM  cured,  Robert!  Robert!  Robert! 
See,  I  too  am  cured!  Oh,  Robert,  what 
wondrous  joy!" — Mrs.  Thornton  had 

JL.  left  her  wheel-chair  and  was  standing  be- 
side her  husband,  standing  alone,  unaided  for  the 
first  time  in  many  months. 

"  Naida !  " —  it  was  a  hoarse  cry  from  Thorn- 
ton. Then  his  hand  passed  heavily  across  his  face 
as  though  to  force  his  brain  to  coherent  action,  to 
lift  the  spell  of  what  seemed  a  wild  phantasm  in  all 
around  him.  "  Naida !  " —  ne  sought  now  to  con- 
trol his  voice  — "  Naida,  get  back  iru:o  your  chair 
again." 

She  laughed  —  a  little  hysterically  —  but  i»  the 
Saugh  too  was  the  uplift  of  a  soul  enraptured. 

"  But  I  am  cured,  Robert.     See,  dear,  can't  you 

understand?  "     She   shook  his  arm.     "  See  —  I 

jam  cured.     I  can  walk  just  as  I  could  before  I  was 

-ill.     Oh,    Robert,    Robert!     See!     See!"— she 

went  from  him,  walking  a  little,  running  a  little  — 

and  laughing  in  a  low,  rippling,  glorious  laugh  that 

was  like  the  music  of  silver  chimes  ringing  out  in 

glad  acclaim. 

He  stared  at  her,  both  hands  now  to  his  tem= 
130 


THE  AFTERMATH  131 

pies ;  then  he  turned  to  look  strangely  at  the  empty 
chair  —  but  it  was  not  empty.  Miss  Harvey,  the 
nurse,  on  her  knees,  had  flung  herself  across  it  and, 
with  buried  head,  was  sobbing  unrestrainedly. 

And  now  upon  the  lawn  was  a  scene  indescrib- 
able. The  long  line  was  broken.  Men  and 
women  ran  hither  and  thither,  for  the  most  part 
aimlessly,  as  though  in  some  strange  state  of  coma 
where  the  mind  refused  its  functions.  They; 
talked  and  cried  and  shouted  at  each  other  iii 
frenzy  without  knowing  what  they  said  —  some 
with  tears  raining  down  their  faces,  others  with 
blank  countenances,  no  sign  of  emotion  upon  them 
other  than  in  their  wild,  dilated  eyes.  Here  and 
there  they  rushed  without  volition,  their  throat- 
noises  rising  above  them,  floating  through  the 
still  air  in  a  sound  that  no  ear  had  ever  heard  be- 
fore, weird,  terrifying,  without  license,  beyond 
control.  Like  mad  creatures  rushing  against  each 
other  in  the  dark  they  were,  stupified  by  a  sight 
that  was  no  mortal  sight,  a  sight  that  blinded  them 
mentally  because  it  was  no  human  sight. 

Faith?     Faith  is  a  matter  of  degree,  is  it  not? 

Or  is  it  at  its  full  in  power  and  efficacy  at  mo- 
ments when  hysteria  in  paroxysm  is  at  its  height? 
Who  shall  define  faith?  Who  shall  say  what  it 
is,  and  who  shall  place  its  limitations  upon  it? 

Out  in  the  center  of  the  lawn  young  Holmes 
was  in  his  mother's  arms,  the  father  pathetically 
trying  to  wrap  both  mother  and  child  in  his  own. 
Around  them,  attracted  in  that  strange  uncertain 
way,  the  crowd  constantly  grew  larger.  Further 


I32  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

out  again,  Helena  was  leading  the  Patriarch  to- 
ward the  cottage,  the  Flopper  close  behind  her  — 
the  Patriarch  walking  with  a  slow  tread,  his  head 
still  turned  a  little  in  that  listening  attitude  —  and 
at  a  distance  followed  a  straggling  crowd.  Then 
the  cottage  door  was  shut  —  and  Helena,  the 
Patriarch  and  the  Flopper  disappeared  from 
view. 

A  dozen  yards  from  the  wheel-chair  stood  Mad- 
ison, riveted  to  the  spot,  motionless  save  for  a 
nervous  twitching  of  the  lips,  his  eyes,  now  upon 
the  invalid  who  walked  about,  now  on  the  little 
lad  who  had  thrown  away  his  crutch.  Some  one 
plucked  at  his  sleeve,  but  Madison  gave  no  heed 
—  again  his  arm  was  pulled,  and  he  turned  to  look 
into  Pale  Face  Harry's  face.  The  other's  counte- 
nance was  gray,  the  eyes  full  of  a  shrinking,  ter- 
rified light. 

"  Doc,  for  God's  sake,  Doc,  what's  it  mean?  " 
whispered  Pale  Face  Harry  shakily,  moistening 
his  dry  lips  with  his  tongue.  "  Doc,  this  ain't  no 
bunk  — there's  something  in  it." 

The  words  seemed  to  rouse  Madison  —  to  lead- 
ership. He  stared  at  Pale  Face  Harry  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  a  grim  smile  flickered  across  his  face. 

"  Something  in  it!  "  he  repeated  with  an  ironic 
laugh  —  and  suddenly  grabbed  Pale  Face  Harry's 
arm  and  shook  him.  "  There's  so  much  in  it  that 
I'm  dnmk  with  it,  crazy  with  it  —  but  I'm  trying 
to  make  myself  believe  it  isn't  too  good  to  be  true. 
Get  that?  Get  a  grip  on  that,  and  hang  ©n. 
Don't  lose  your  nerve,  Harry!  " 


THE  AFTERMATH  133 

"  I  guess  I  ain't  much  worse  than  you,"  mum- 
bted  Pale  Face  Harry.  "  You're  whiter  than  a 
sheet." 

"  You're  right,"  admitted  Madison  frankly. 
"  I'm  queer,  but  I'm  coming  around.  Helena 
seems  to  be  the  only  one  who  never  lost  her  grip 
—  she's  got  the  Patriarch  and  the  Flopper  out  of 
the  way  and  under  cover.  Brace  up,  Harry  -^-» 
*rhat  I  thought  we'd  get  in  the  Roost  that  night  is 
counterfeit  money  to  what'll  come  from  this." 
His  eyes  fastened  on  a  figure  that,  separating  it- 
self from  the  group  around  young  Holmes,  now 
dasEed  frantically,  hatless,  and  with  dishevelled 
hair  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thornton.  "  Who's  that, 
Harry  ?  He  came  down  on  the  train  with  you  — » 
know  him?  " 

"  He's  only  some  newspaper  guy  or  other,"  an- 
swered Pale  Face  Harry  mechanically,  his  eyes 
still  roving  wildly  over  the  scene  around  him. 

"  Oh,  is  that  all!  "  ejaculated  Madison  with  a 
little  gasp.  "  I've  already  exhausted  my  thanks 
to  Santa  Claus  and  here  he  comes  with  another 
package  done  up  in  dinky  pink  paper  tied  with 
baby  ribbon  —  and  the  gold  platter  it's  on  goes 
with  it!" 

"What  d'ye  mean?"  asked  Pale  Face  Harry 
heavily. 

The  newspaper  man,  the  instinct  of  his  calling 
now  rising  paramount  to  all  else,  had  left  the 
Thorntons  and  was  tearing  for  the  wagon  track 
on  his  way  to  the  station  and  the  telegraph  office 
like  one  possessed. 


134  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  By  to-morrow  morning,"  said  Madison  softly, 
"  the  missionaries  will  be  explaining  this  to  the  Es- 
quimaux at  Oo-lou-lou,  the  near-invalids  in  Cali- 
fornia will  be  packing  their  trunks,  likewise  those 
in  the  languid  shade  of  the  Florida  palms;  they'll 
be  listing  it  on  the  stock  exchange  in  New  York, 
'and  the  breath  of  Eden  will  waft  itself  o'er  plain 
and  valley  until  — "  he  stopped  suddenly,  as  Mrs. 
Thornton's  voice  reached  him. 

"  I  am  going  to  walk  back,  Robert." 
'Yes;     but,     Naida,"     Thornton     protested, 
"  you're  not  strong  enough  yet." 

"Don't  you  understand?"  she  cried,  half 
laughing,  half  sobbing.  "  There  is  no  '  yet ' — 
I  am  cured,  dear  —  all  cured.  I'm  well  and 
strong.  Try  to  understand,  Robert  —  oh,  I'm  so 
happy,  so  —  so  thankful.  I  know  it's  miraculous, 
that  it's  almost  impossible  to  believe  —  but  try  to 
understand." 

"  I  am  trying  to,"  said  Thornton  numbly,  watch- 
ing her  as  she  moved  about.  "  And  it  seems  as 
though  I  were  in  a  dream  —  that  this  isn't  real  — 
that  you're  not  real." 

"  It's  not  a  dream,"  she  said.  "  Oh,  I'm  so 
strong  again.  Why,  Robert,  it  would  be  just  as 
absurd  for  me  to  be  wheeled  back  in  that  chair  as 
for  you  to  be  —  and  besides  I  have  no  right  to  do 
that  now.  It  would  be  a  sacrilege,  profaning  the 
gratitude  in  my  heart  —  I  am  cured  and  these  poor 
people  here  must  see  that  I  am  cured  —  Robert, 
we  must  leave  that  wheel-chair  here  that  others, 
poor  sufferers  who  will  come  now,  will  see  and  be- 


THE  AFTERMATH  135 

Jieve  and  be  aired  too.  And,  Robert,  in  some 
way,  I  do  not  know  just  how,  we  who  are  rich 
must  do  something  to  help  people  to  get  here." 

"  Naida,"  said  Thornton,  his  voice  low,  shaken, 
"  I  feel  as  though  I  were  in  another  world.  I 
have  seen  what  I  can  hardly  make  myself  believe 
that  I  have  seen.  I  can't  explain  —  I  am  speak- 
ing, but  my  very  voice  seems  strange  to  me.  I 
feel  as  you  do  about  helping  others  —  how  could 
I  feel  otherwise?  What  we  could  do  I  do  not 
know  as  yet,  either  —  but  I  will  do  anything.  I 
was  a  scoffing  fool  —  and  you  were  cured  before 
my  eyes  —  a  boy  was  cured  —  and  that  other, 
deformed  as  no  creature  was  ever  deformed  be- 
fore, was  cured  " —  Thornton's  lips  quivered,  and 
he  hid  his  face  in  his  hands. 

''While  the  iron  is  hot  —  strike,"  murmured 
Madison.  He  gazed  a  moment  longer  at  the 
group  —  Mrs.  Thornton's  hand  was  on  her  hus- 
band's shoulder  now  —  then  his  eyes  roved  over 
the  frenzied  scenes  still  being  enacted  everywhere 
upon  the  lawn.  "I  wonder?"  he  muttered. 
The  frown  on  his  forehead  cleared  suddenly. 
"  Of  course  !  "  said  he  to  Pale  Face  Harry.  "  It's 
a  cinch  —  it's  as  good  as  done !  " 

•Pale  Face  Harry  stared  at  him  queerly. 

"  No,  Harry,"  smiled  Madison,  "  my  pulse  is 
quite  normal  now,  thank  you.  Listen.  This  is 
where  we  call  the  first  showdown  on  cold  hands  — 
and  the  dealer  slips  himself  an  ace."  He  drew  a 
key  from  his  pocket  and  put  it  in  Pale  Face  Harry's 
hand.  "  That's  the  key  of  the  small  trunk  in  my 


136  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

room  at  the  hotel  —  front  room,  right  hand  side 
of  the  hall.  There's  a  check-book  in  the  tray  — 
and  I'll  give  you  twenty  minutes  to  get  back  here 
with  it.  You'll  find  me  somewhere  around  here, 
but  you  needn't  let  the  whole  earth  in  on  the  pre- 
sentation —  see  ?  Now  beat  it  1  " 

As  Pale  Face  Harry  hurried  away,  Madison, 
seemingly  as  aimless,  as  hysterical  as  the  hundreds 
about  him,  moved  here  and  there,  but  unostenta- 
tiously he  kept  nearing  the  upper  end  of  the  lawn, 
and,  finally,  hidden  by  the  woodshed  at  the  fur- 
ther end  of  the  cottage,  he  slipped  quickly  around 
to  the  rear.  Here  the  garden  stretched  almost  to 
the  edge  of  the  sandy  beach  —  not  a  soul  was  in 
sight  —  and  the  beat  of  the  surf  deadened  the 
sound  from  the  front  lawn  to  little  more  than  a 
low,  indistinct  murmur. 

Quickly  now,  Madison  stepped  to  where  one  of 
the  old-fashioned  windows,  that  swung  inward 
from  the  center  like  double  doors,  was  open,  and, 
reaching  in  his  hand,  tapped  sharply  twice  in  suc- 
cession with  his  knuckles  on  the  pane.  The  sill 
was  not  quite  on  a  level  with  his  shoulders  and  he 
could  see  inside  —  it  was  Helena's  room,  and  the 
door  to  the  hall  was  open.  Again  he  knocked. 
Came  then  the  sound  of  footsteps  —  and  from  the 
hall  the  Flopper's  -face  peered  cautiously  around 
the  jamb  of  the  door. 

"  Tell  Helena  to  come  here,"  called  Madison 
softly. 

The  Flopper  turned  his  head,  called  obediently, 
and  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way  came  himself  to  the 


9THE  AFTERMATH  137 

window.  His  "face  was  haggard,  and  he  shivered 
as  he  licked  his  lips. 

"  I  pulled  de  stunt,"  said  the  Flopper  in  a 
croaking  voice,  "  but  de  kid  —  Doc  —  did  youse 
see  de  kid?  I  got  de  shakes  —  it's  like  de  whole 
of  hell  an'  de  other  place  was  loose,  an'  Helena's 
gone  batty,  an' —  pipe  her,  dere  she  is." 

Into  the  room  came  Helena,  her  face  like  chalk 
—  all  color  gone  from  even  her  lips.  She  clutched 
at  the  window  beside  the  Flopper  for  support. 

"  I'm  frightened,"  she  whispered.  "  We've 
gone  too  far  —  it's  —  it's  —  John  Madison,  I'm 
frightened." 

Madison  did  not  speak  for  a  moment  —  Mad- 
ison was  a  consummate  leader.  He  looked,  smil- 
ing reassuringly,  from  one  to  the  other  —  and 
then  leaned  soothingly,  confidentially,  in  over  the 
sill. 

41 1  know  how  you  feel  —  felt  just  the  same  my- 
self for  a  bit,"  said  he  quietly.  "  But  now  look 
here,  you've  got  to  pull  yourselves  together  — 
there's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of.  It's  natural 
enough.  It's  faith,  Helena  —  and  that's  what 
we  were  banking  on  —  only  not  quite  so  hard. 
That  kid  and  Mrs.  Thornton  annexed  the  real 
brand,  that's  all  —  and  when  the  genuine  thing  is 
on  tap  I  cross  my  fingers  and  yell  for  faith  — 
there's  nothing  to  stop  it.  And  that's  the  way  it's 
got  both  of  you  too,  eh?  Well,  that  only  makes 
our  game  the  safer  and  the  more  certain,  doesn't 
it?  So,  come  on  now,  pull  yourselves  together." 

**  In  de  last  act  when  I  was  gettin'  me  head  into 


138  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

joint,"  mumbled  the  Flopper,  "  was  when  de  kid 
yelled  —  I  can  hear  it  yet,  an' — " 

"Forget  it!"  Madison  broke  in  a  little 
sharply;  then,  tactfully,  his  voice  full  of  unbounded 
admiration :  "  You're  an  artist,  Flopper  —  a 
wonder.  You  pulled  the  greatest  act  that  was 
ever  on  the  boards,  and  you  pulled  it  as  no  other 
man  on  earth  could  have  pulled  it.  Flopper,  you 
make  me  feel  humble  when  I  look  at  you." 

"  Swipe  me !  "  said  the  Flopper,  brightening. 
"  D'ye  mean  it,  Doc  —  honest?  " 

"Mean  it!"  ejaculated  Madison.  "You're 
the  whole  thing,  Flopper  —  you  win.  Come  on 
now,  Helena,  buck  up  —  we've  got  another  little 
act  due  in  about  fifteen  minutes  —  don't  let  a  lot 
of  yowling  rubes  get  your  goat.  Why,  say,  we've 
got  the  whole  show  on  the  stampede  —  and  we've 
got  to  rush  our  luck." 

"  Sure !  "  said  the  Flopper.  "  Dat's  de  way  to 
talk  —  leave  it  to  de  Doc  every  time  —  I  ain't 
feazed  half  de  way  I  was." 

"  I'm  all  right,"  said  Helena  a  little  tremu- 
lously. "  What  is  it  we're  to  do?  " 

"  Good !  "  said  Madison,  smiling  at  her  ap- 
provingly. "  That  sounds  better.  Now  listen  — 
and  listen  hard.  From  this  minute  this  cottage  is 
the  Shrine.  Get  that  ?  —  Shrine.  You've  got  to 
keep  the  hush  falling  here,  and  keep  it  falling  all 
the  time  —  a  sort  of  holy,  hallowed  silence,  under- 
stand? Lay  it  on  thick  —  make  the  crowd  stand 
back  —  make  the  guy  that  comes  in  here  feel  as 
though  he  ought  to  come  in  on  his  knees  and  as  if 


THE  AFTERMATH  139 

he'd  be  struck  dead  if  he  didn't.  Get  the  slow 
music  and  the  low  lights  working.  And  keep  the 
Patriarch  well  back  of  the  drop  except  when  he's 
on  for  a  turn.  Get  me  ?  He's  no  side-show  with 
a  barker  in  front  of  the  tent  —  don't  forget  that 
for  a  minute.  The  harder  it  is  to  see  the  Patri- 
arch and  the  less  he's  seen,  the  bigger  he  plays  up 
when  he's  on.  He  goes  to  no  man  under  any  con- 
ditions, and  the  only  man  or  woman  that  gets  to 
him  is  through  faith  and  supplication,  and  a  dou- 
ble order  of  it  at  that.  Keep  the  solemn,  breath- 
less tap  turned  on  all  the  time." 

Helena  looked  at  him  with  a  strange  little  smile 
quivering  on  her  lips. 

"  It's  a  good  thing  I've  got  a  sense  of  humor," 
she  said  slowly,  "  or  else  I  think  I'd  —  I'd  — " 

"  No,  you  wouldn't,"  said  Madison  cheerfully. 
"  But  time's  flying.  You're  going  to  have  visit- 
ors in  a  few  minutes,  and  here's  where  the  Patri- 
arch gets  tucked  away  out  of  sight  behind  the  veil 
for  a  starter,  leaving  his  presence  hovering  and 
throbbing  all  around  in  the  air  —  you  stay  with 
him,  Flopper,  in  a  back  room  somewhere  and  hold 
his  hand.  Where  is  he  now?  " 

"  In  his  armchair  in  the  sitting-room,"  said 
Helena.  "  And  he's  still  listening  in  that  queer 
way  he  did  out  on  the  lawn.  I  think  he  knows  in 
a  little  way  what's  happened." 

"  That's  good,"  said  Madison;  "  it'll  make  him 
happy.  Well,  lead  him  gently  into  retirement.  I 
guess  that's  all  —  now  hurry." 

"  Who  is  it  that's  coming?  "  interposed  Helena 


i4o  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

quickly,  as  Madison  started  away  from  the  win- 
dow. 

Madison  grinned. 

"  Some  friends  of  the  Flopper's.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Thankoffering  —  you'll  like  them  im- 
mensely, Helena.  The  lady  walks  quite  well  now, 
and—" 

"  Walks !  "  exclaimed  the  Flopper,  who  evi- 
dently had  not  assimilated  Madison's  previous 
reference  to  Mrs.  Thornton.  "  De  lady  dat  I 
come  wid  in  de  private  car  —  walks?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Madison  pleasantly. 

"  Cured?     All  cured?  "  gasped  the  Flopper. 

"Of  course,"  said  Madison  again  —  compla- 
cently. 

"  Say,"  said  the  Flopper,  "  say,  Tm  goin'  dippy. 
Another  one  de  same  as  de  kid,  Doc?  " 

"  Same  as  the  kid,  Flopper  —  faith." 

"  Swipe  me  I  "  said  the  Flopper  Helplessly. 


—  XII 


SAID  THE  SPIDER   TO   THE   FLY 


»9 


BY  the  wheel-chair,  Mrs.  Thornton,  her 
husband  and  Doc  Madison  were  in  ear- 
nest conversation  —  and  around  them 
was  a  mass  of  people.     The  crowd  had 
divided  into  two,  or,  rather,  was  constantly  com- 
ing   and    going    between    two    points  —  young 
Holmes  and  Mrs.  Thornton  —  and  still  the  hys- 
teria was  upon  men  and  women,  still  that  waver- 
ing, moanlike  sound  floated  over  the  lawn. 

"  I  am  stunned  and  stupified,"  Madison  was 
saying,  and  his  hand  trembled  visibly  in  its  out- 
flung  gesture.  "  I  am  not,  I  am  afraid,  a  man  of 
deep  sensibilities,  but  I  cannot  help  feeling  that 
I  have  been  permitted,  been  chosen  even,  to  wit- 
ness this  sight,  a  sight  that  will  stay  with  me  till  I 
die,  for  some  great,  ulterior  purpose.  It's  as 
though  this  place  were  hallowed,  set  apart;  that 
here,  if  only  one  has  faith,  that  man's  miraculous 
power  is  boundless  —  that  I  should  help  someway. 
I  —  I'm  afraid  I  don't  explain  myself  well." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  Mrs.  Thornton  re- 
turned eagerly.  "  It  is  what  I  was  saying  to  my 
husband  —  to  make  this  place  known,  to  help  to 
bring  suffering  people  here." 


142  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Madison  nodded  silently. 

"  And  if  you,  who  have  no  personal  cause  for 
gratitude,  feel  like  that,  how  much  more  should 
we  who  —  who  —  oh,  there  are  no  words  to  tell 
it  —  my  heart  is  too  full" — Mrs.  Thornton 
smiled  through  tears.  "  Robert,  you  said  you 
would  do  anything." 

"  Yes,  dear,"  Thornton  answered  gravely. 
"  But  what  ?  We  cannot  do  things  in  a  moment. 
If  money  — " 

Madison  shook  his  head. 

"  It's  beyond  money,"  he  said.  "  Money  is 
only  a  secondary  consideration.  It's  the  needs  of 
the  place  that  are  paramount.  It's  not  so  much 
the  bringing  of  people  here  —  they  will  hear  of 
what  has  taken  place  and  will  come  of  their  own 
accord,  they  will  flock  here  in  numbers  as  time 
goes  on.  But  then  —  what?  What  can  be  done 
with  them  in  this  little  village?  For  a  time  per- 
haps they  could  be  accommodated  —  but  after 
that  they  must  be  turned  away." 

"  Turned  away !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Thornton,  in 
a  hurt  cry.  "  Turned  away  from  hope  —  to  bit- 
terness and  misery  again !  No,  no,  they  must  not ! 
Why  " —  she  grasped  her  husband's  arm  agitat-, 
edly  — "  why  couldn't  we  buy  land  and  put  little 
houses  upon  it  where  they  could  stay?  " 

Madison  leaned  suddenly  toward  her. 

"  I  believe  you've  hit  on  the  idea,  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton," he  said  excitedly.  "Why  not?  It  would 
be  the  finest  thing  that  was  ever  done  in  the  world. 
But  why  not  go  further  —  this  should  not  be  a 


"  SAID  THE  SPIDER  "  143 

private  enterprise  with  the  burden  on  the  few." 
He  turned  abruptly  to  Mr.  Thornton.  "  What  a 
monument  from  grateful  hearts,  what  a  tribute  to 
that  saintly  soul  a  huge  sanatorium,  built  and  prop- 
erly endowed,  would  be !  And  it  is  feasible  — 
purely  from  the  voluntary  contributions  of  those 
who  come  here  and  have  money  —  free  as  the  air 
to  the  poor  who  are  sick  —  free  to  all,  for  that 
matter  —  no  one  asked  to  give  —  but  the  poorest 
would  gladly  lay  down  their  mites." 

"  Yes  —  oh,  yes !  "  cried  Mrs.  Thornton  raptly, 

"Yes,"  admitted  Mr.  Thornton  thoughtfully; 
"  that  might  be  done." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  of  it,"  asserted  Madison 
enthusiastically.  "  It  needs  but  -the  initiative  on 
the  part  of  some  one,  on  our  part,  and  the  rest  will 
take  care  of  itself.  But  we  must,  of  course,  have 
the  endorsement  of  the  Patriarch  —  why  not  go 
to  the  cottage  now,  at  once,  and  talk  it  over?  " 

"  Can  we  see  him?  "  asked  Mrs.  Thornton  wist- 
fully. "  Oh,  I  would  like  to  kneel  at  his  feet  and 
pour  out  my  gratitude.  But  see  how  all  these 
people  go  no  nearer  than  that  row  of  trees,  as 
though  love  or  fear  or  reverence  kept  them  from 
going  further,  as  though  it  were  almost  forbidden, 
holy  ground,  as  though  they  were  held  back  by  an 
invisible  barrier  in  spite  of  themselves." 

'  True,"  said  Madison;  "  and  I  sense  that  very 
thing  myself  —  all  men  must  sense  it  after  what 
has  taken  place,  all  must  feel  the  presence  of  a 
power  too  majestic,  too  full  of  awe  for  the  mind 
to  grasp.  This  faith  " — he  threw  out  his  hands 


144  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

in  an  impotent  gesture  — "  we  can  only  accept  it 
unquestioningly,  as  a  mighty  thing,  an  actual,  liv- 
ing, existent  thing,  even  if  we  cannot  fully  under- 
stand. But  I  feel  that  with  what  we  have  in  mind 
we  have  a  right  to  go  there  now  —  and  we  should 
take  that  little  lad  who  was  cured  as  well  —  and 
his  parents,  they  should  come  too." 

"And  shall  we  see  him?"  Mrs.  Thornton 
asked  again  tensely. 

"  Why,  I  do  not  know,"  Madison  replied;  "  but 
at  least  we  shall  see  his  niece,  Miss  Vail,  and  it  is 
with  her  in  any  case  that  we  would  have  to  discuss 
the  plan,  for  the  Patriarch,  you  know,  is  deaf  and 
dumb  and  blind." 

u  You  know  them,  don't  you?"  Thornton  in- 
quired. 

Madison  smiled,  a  little  strangely,  a  little  depre- 
catingly. 

"  If  one  can  speak  of  '  knowing '  such  as  they 
—  yes,"  he  answered.  "  When  I  came  two  weeks 
ago,  the  Patriarch  was  not  wholly  blind,  and  he 
was  very  kind  to  me.  I  learned  to  love  the  gentle 
soul  of  the  man,  and  in  a  way,  skeptical  though  I 
was,  I  felt  his  power  —  but  I  never  realized  until 
this  afternoon  how  stupendous,  how  immeasur- 
able it  was." 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  cottage,  then,"  said  Thorn- 
ton. "  Naida,  dear,  let  me  help  you;  it  is  quite  a 
little  distance  and  — " 

She  put  out  her  hands  in  a  happy,  intimate  way 
to  hold  him  off. 

"  You  can't  realize  it,  Robert,  can  you?     That 


"  SAID  THE  SPIDER  "  145 

dear,  practical  business  head  of  yours  makes  it 
even  harder  for  you  than  it  is  for  me  —  and  I  can 
hardly  realize  it  myself.  But  I  am  cured,  dear, 
and  I'm  well  and  strong,  and  I  don't  need  any  help- 
—  why,  Robert,  I  am  going  to  help  you  now,  in- 
stead of  always  being  a  source  of  worry  and  anx- 
iety to  you.  Come,  let  us  go." 

"  If  you  will  walk  slowly,"  suggested  Madison, 
"  I'll  speak  to  the  little  Holmes  boy  and  his  par- 
ents, and  bring  them  with  us." 

He  moved  away  as  he  spoke  —  in  the  direction 
of  a  racking  cough,  that  rose  above  the  confused, 
murmuring,  whispering,  shaken  voices  on  every 
hand;  and  in  a  little  knot  of  people  he  was,  for  a 
moment,  pressed  close  against  Pale  Face  Harry. 

"  All  right,"  whispered  Pale  Face  Harry,  "  it's 
in  your  pocket  now  —  but,  say,  no  more  runs  like- 
that  for  me,  I'm  all  in.  I  thought  sure  I  was  cured 
myself  —  I  hadn't  coughed  for  — " 

"  Never  mind  about  that  now,"  said  Madison- 
rapidly.  "  I  want  the  crowd  kept  away  from  the 
doors  of  the  bank  vault  if  they  show  any  tendency" 
to  get  too  close,  though  I  don't  think  that'll  hap- 
pen —  they're  too  numbed  and  scared  yet.  But 
you  know  the  game.  Keep  the  awe  going  and  the1 
'  holy  ground '  signs  up.  Anybody  that  steps 
across  that  stretch  between  the  trees  and  the  cot- 
tage on  and  after  the  present  date  of  writing  does 
it  with  bowed  head  and  his  shoes  off  —  get  the 
idea?" 

Pale  Face  Harry  grinned. 

"  That's   easy,"   he   said.     "  Anything'd  steer 


146  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

'em  now  —  they're  like  sheep.  Leave  it  to  me  to 
keep  the  soft  pedal  on." 

With  a  nod,  Madison  turned  away,  the  tense 
expression  on  his  face  assumed  again  —  and  pres- 
ently he  was  talking  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Holmes,  and 
patting  the  boy's  head  in  a  clumsy,  overwrought 
way. 

"I  —  I  don't  dar'st  to  go,"  said  Mrs.  Holmes, 
clutching  wildly  at  the  boy,  still  sobbing,  still  be- 
yond control  of  herself. 

"  But  Mrs.  Thornton  is  going,"  said  Madison 
gently,  "  and  I  know  your  gratitude  is  no  less  than 
hers  —  it  couldn't  be  less  with  this  little  lad  re- 
stored to  you.  I  am  sure  you  want  to  show  it  — 
don't  you?" 

"  I  think  we'd  orter  go,  ma,"  said  Mr.  Holmes 
uneasily 

The  boy  put  his  hand  in  Madison's. 

"  I  want  to  go,  mister,"  he  choked.  '  Take 
me,  mister,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  we'd  orter  go,"  repeated  Mr. 
Holmes.  "  Come  along,  ma,"  he  said,  taking  his 
wife's  arm. 

It  was  a  strange  group  —  the  Thorntons,  rich, 

refined,  to  whom  luxury  was  necessity ;  the  Holmes, 

| poor,  uncultured,  coarsely  dressed;  and  Madison, 

who  walked  with  set  face,  head  lowered  a  little, 

his  pace  slowing  perceptibly,  humbly  it  seemed,  the 

nearer  he   came  to  the  cottage   door.     Neither 

Thornton,  nor  Holmes,  nor  Holmes'  wife  spoke. 

-Mrs.  Thornton's  arm  was  flung  around  the  boy's 

shoulder,  and  he  kept  looking  up  into  her  tearful 


"  SAID  THE  SPIDER  "  147 

face  —  there  was  a  bond  between  them  that, 
young  as  he  was,  held  him  in  its  thrall.  Out 
across  the  lawn,  dotted  here  and  there,  in  knots 
and  groups  and  little  crowds,  men  and  women 
stopped  where  they  stood  and  watched,  making  no 
effort  to  follow  —  and  some,  at  the  renewed  evi- 
dence of  the  miraculous,  once  more  so  vividly  be- 
fore their  eyes,  dropped  again  to  their  knees. 

They  reached  the  door,  and  Madison  drew  back 
a  little  and  with  the  others  waited  silently  after  he 
had  knocked.  Then  the  door  opened  slowly,  and 
Helena,  slim  and  girlish  in  her  simple  white  dress, 
appeared  upon  the  threshold.  Her  great  dark 
eyes  travelled  slowly  from  one  to  another,  and 
then  her  face  lighted  with  a  gentle  smile. 

"  Miss  Vail,"  said  Madison  diffidently,  "  this  is 
Mrs.  Thornton  and  her  husband,  and  the  little  lad, 
with  his  parents,  who  owes  so  much  to  the  Patri- 
arch, and  they  have  come  to  — " 

"  To  try  and  say  a  little  of  what  is  in  their 
hearts  " —  Mrs.  Thornton  stepped  impulsively 
forward  and  held  out  her  hands  to  Helena  —  and 
then,  breaking  down  suddenly,  she  began  to  sob, 
and  the  two  were  in  each  other's  arms,  Mrs. 
Thornton's  head  buried  on  Helena's  shoulder, 
Helena's  face  lowered,  her  brown  hair  mingling 
with  the  gold  of  the  other's,  her  arms  about  the 
frail  form  that  shook  convulsively. 

Doc  Madison  shot  a  covert  glance  at  the  three 
behind  him  —  Thornton,  and  Holmes,  and  Mrs. 
Holmes.  Holmes,  with  downcast  eyes,  was  shuf- 
fling awkwardly  from  foot  to  foot;  Mrs.  Holmes,. 


I48  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

her  woman's  instinct  touched,  was  watching  the 
scene  with  face  aglow,  her  eyes  moist  anew; 
Thornton  was  staring  fascinated  at  Helena,  a 
sort  of  breathless,  wondering  admiration  in  his 
eyes. 

Madison  involuntarily  followed  Thornton's 
look;  then  stole  a  glance  back  at  Thornton  again 
—  Thornton  was  still  gazing  intently  at  Helena. 

"  Say,"  observed  Madison  to  himself,  "  the 
longer  you  live  the  more  you  learn,  don't  you? 
That's  the  kind  of  stuff  Helena  wears  from  now 
on,  the  clinging  white  with  the  bare  throat  effect 
and  all  that.  Why,  say,  like  that  she's  what  the 
poets  call  radiantly  divine  —  eh,  what?" 

Mrs.  Thornton  raised  her  head,  and  her  hands 
creeping  to  Helena's  face  brushed  the  brown  hair 
tenderly  back  from  the  white  forehead. 

"  Oh,  how  good  and  sweet  and  pure  you  are !  " 
she  murmured  brokenly. 

A  quick,  sudden  flush,  passing  to  all  but  Madi- 
son as  one  of  demure  and  startled  modesty,  swept 
in  a  crimson  tide  to  Helena's  face. 

"  You  —  you  must  not  say  that,"  she  faltered, 
shaking  her  head.  "I  —  you  must  not  say  that." 

Mrs.  Thornton  smiled  at  her  —  and  slipped 
her  arm  affectionately  around  Helena's  waist. 

"  I  could  not  help  it,  dear,"  she  whispered. 
"  It  came  spontaneously.  And  it  makes  me  so 
happy  to  find  you  like  this,  and  it  makes  it  so  much 
more  a  joy  in  doing  what  we  have  come  to  talk  to 
you  about." 

"  What  you  have  come  to  talk  to  me  about?  " 


"  SAID  THE  SPIDER  "  149 

—  Helena,  steadying  herself,  repeated  the  words 
almost  composedly. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton,  an  eagerness 
in  her  voice  again.  "But  —  may  we  come  in? 
Is  it—" 

"  All  may  come  in  here,"  Helena  answered 
softly,  "  and  " —  her  eyes  met  Thornton's  fixed 
gaze  and  dropped  quickly- — "  please  come  in,"  she 
ended  abruptly. 


—  XIII  — 

REAL   MONEY 


f       """^HE  two  women  passed  inside  the  cot- 
tage, Mrs.  Thornton  holding  out  her 
hand    again    to    the    little    lad;    while 
B..         Holmes   and  his   wife   followed  hesi- 
tantly,   awed.     In    the    rear,    Thornton    grasped 
Madison's  arm  suddenly. 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  beautiful  face,"  he  whis- 
pered tensely.  "  It's  wonderful." 

'  Yes,"  assented  Madison.  "  But  everything 
here  seems  full  of  a  rare,  strange  beauty,  a  hal- 
lowed something  —  it  lifts  one  beyond  material 
things.  You  feel  it  —  a  great,  calm  solemnity  all 
about  you." 

He  closed  the  door  softly  behind  him. 

Mrs.  Thornton's  eyes  swept  questioningly,  anx- 
iously and  a  little  timidly  about  the  plain,  simple, 
quiet  room;  and  then  she  spoke,  her  voice  uncon- 
sciously hushed: 

"He  —  he  is  not  here?" 

Helena  shook  her  head,  as  she  led  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton to  a  chair. 

"  Not  now,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  '  The 
strain  of  this  afternoon  has  left  him  very  weary 
and  very  tired  —  much  has  gone  out  of  him  in  re- 
sponse to  the  faith  he  felt  but  could  not  see." 

150 


REAL  MONEY  151 

"  But  he  knows?  "  said  Mrs.  Thornton  eagerly, 
reaching  for  Helena's  hand.  "  He  knows?  " 

u  Yes,"  Helena  replied  quietly,  "  he  knows. 
He  always  knows."  She  nodded  gravely  to  the 
others.  "  Please  sit  down,"  she  said. 

Madison  quietly  took  the  chair  nearest  the  ta- 
ble; Thornton  one  a  little  in  front  of  Madison  and 
nearer  his  wife  and  Helena,  who  were  close  by  the 
big,  open  fireplace;  the  two  Holmes  sat  down  on 
the  edges  of  chairs  a  little  behind  Madison;  while 
young  Holmes  knelt,  his  arms  in  Mrs.  Thornton's 
lap,  his  head  turned  a  little  sideways,  his  chin 
cupped  in  one  hand,  as  he  stared  breathlessly 
around  him. 

It  was  the  boy  who  broke  the  momentary  si- 
lence. 

"Ain't  that  other  fellow  here,  neither  —  the 
fellow  that  was  worse'n  me?  "  he  whispered. 

Helena  leaned  toward  him. 
'Yes;  he  is  here,"  she  answered,  smiling 
sweetly.  "  He  is  with  the  Patriarch."  She 
lifted  her  head  to  include  the  others  in  her  words. 
"  It  is  very  wonderful,  his  gratitude.  He  will  not 
leave  the  Patriarch  —  he  says  he  will  not  leave 
him  ever,  that  all  he  has  to  give  for  the  debt  he 
owes  is  the  life  that  the  Patriarch  gave  back  to 
him,  and  he  will  listen  to  nothing  but  that  he 
should  devote  that  life  to  the  Patriarch's  serv- 
ice." 

"  I'd  like  to,  too,"  said  young  Holmes,  with  a 
quick  flush  on  his  face.  "  Can  I,  miss  —  can 
I?" 


152  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Helena  gently.  "  Who  knows 
what  there  may  be  that  you  can  do  ?  " 

"  Dear  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton,  stroking  the 
lad's  head.  She  looked  quickly  at  Helena.  "  We, 
too,  are  grateful,  more  than  there  are  words  to 
tell,  and  we,  too,  would  like  to  show  our  gratitude. ! 
We  are  rich  and  money — " 

"  Money!  "  the  word  came  in  shocked,  hurt  in- 
terruption from  Helena,  as  a  signal  flashed  from 
Madison's  eyes.  "  The  Patriarch  does  not  do 
these  things  for  money  —  it  would  be  a  bitter 
grief  to  him  to  be  misjudged  in  that  way,  even  in 
thought.  It  is  the  love  in  his  heart  for  the  suf- 
fering ones,  and  his  power  goes  out  to  all  who  ask 
it  freely,  with  no  thought  of  recompense  or  gain, 
and  his  joy  and  happiness  is  the  joy  and  happiness 
of  others." 

"  And  right  off  the  bat  too !  "  said  Madison  ad- 
miringly to  himself.  "  Now,  wouldn't  that  get 
you !  Say,  could  you  beat  it  —  could  you  beat 
it!" 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  mean  that,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton 
almost  piteously.  "  Please,  please  do  not  think 
so,  for  I  know  so  well  that  money  in  a  personal 
sense  could  have  no  place  here,  that  it  would  in- 
deed be  sacrilege.  It  is  in  quite  another  way  — 
Robert,  Mr.  Madison,  you  explain  what  we  would 
like  to  do." 

It  was  Madison  who  explained. 

"  It  is  Mrs.  Thornton's  idea,  Miss  Vail,"  he 
said  earnestly;  "  and  it  is  one  that  I  know  will 
realize  the  Patriarch's  dearest  wish  —  to  extend 


REAL  MONEY  153 

his  sphere  of  helpfulness  to  others,  to  reach  out 
to  all  who  are  stricken  and  have  faith  to  come.  I 
remember  his  writing  that  on  the  slate,  which  he 
used  for  conversation  before  his  sight  was  com- 
pletely taken  from  him.  I  remember  the  words 
as  though  they  were  before  me  now:  'I  have 
dreamed  often  of  a  wider  field,  of  reaching  out  to 
help  the  thousands  beyond  this  little  town  —  it 
would  be  wondrous  joy.'  ' 

"  Yes?  "  said  Helena  in  a  suppressed  voice. 

"  In  a  way,"  Madison  went  on  gravely,  "  his 
dream  is  already  realized.  What  has  happened 
here  this  afternoon  will  in  a  few  hours  be  known 
to  the  whole  civilized  world,  and  there  will  be  no 
room  for  incredulity  or  doubt  —  on  whatever 
ground  people  see  fit  to  base  their  belief,  they  must 
still  believe;  and,  believing,  they  will  come  here 
in  ever  increasing  numbers  —  but  this  little  village 
is  totally  inadequate  to  accommodate  them.  At 
first,  yes,  as  I  said  to  Mrs.  Thornton;  but  after- 
wards —  no.  Mrs.  Thornton's  idea,  Mr.  Thorn- 
ton's idea  and  my  own,  if  i  may  say  so,  is  to  build 
and  endow  a  great  sanr.torium  that,  in  consonance 
with  the  Patriarch's  ideals,  shall  be  free  to  all  — 
and  we  feel  that  the  money  for  this  purpose  will 
come  gladly  and  spontaneously,  as  it  so  appropri- 
ately should  come,  from  those  who  find  joy  and 
peace  and  health  again  at  the  Patriarch's  hands." 

Helena  half  rose  from  her  chair,  as  she  stole 
a  veiled  glance  at  Madison. 

"  It  would  be  wonderful,"  she  said,  with  a  lit- 
tle catch  in  her  voice.  "  And  he  —  it  would  be 


154  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

the  one  thing  in  the  world  for  him.  But  —  but 
it  would  take  a  great  deal  of  money." 

'Yes,"  said  Madison  slowly;  "  at  least  half  a 
million." 

Thornton  turned  toward  Madison. 

"As  much  as  that?"  he  asked  tentatively. 

"  I  should  say  so,"  replied  Madison  thought- 
fully. '  You  see,  it's  the  endowment  after  all 
that  is  the  most  important.  Say  that  the  build- 
ing and  equipment  cost  only  a  hundred  thousand, 
that  would  only  leave  an  income,  from  the  other 
four  hundred  thousand  at  six  per  cent.,  of  twenty- 
four  thousand  dollars  —  not  enough  in  itself  even, 
but  it  would  be  augmented  of  course  by  the  con- 
tributions that  would  still  go  on." 

Thornton  nodded  his  head. 

"That  is  so,"  he  agreed;  "but  there  is  the 
time  to  consider  —  it  would  take  a  long  time  to 
raise  that  amount." 

"  No,"  said  Madison.  "  A  few  months  at  the 
outside.  Thornton  " —  he  reached  out  and  laid 
his  hand  impressively  on  the  other's  sleeve  — 
"  we  are  not  dealing  with  ordinary  things  here 
—  we  have  witnessed  this  afternoon  a  sight  that 
should  teach  us  that.  Here,  in  this  very  room, 
beside  us  now,  your  wife,  that  little  boy,  is  evi- 
dence of  power  beyond  anything  we  have  ever 
known  before.  Have  we  not  that  same  power  to 
count  on  still?  It  would  be  an  ingrate  heart  in- 
deed that,  owing  all,  returned  nothing." 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Mrs.  Thornton.  "  Mr. 
Madison  is  right.  I  know  it,  I  feel  it  —  the 


REAL  MONEY  155 

money  will  come  faster  than  we  have  any  idea 
of."  ' 

Madison  smiled  at  her  quietly. 

"  It  will  come,"  he  said.     "  People  will  give 

their  money,  their  jewels,  anything,  and  give  joy- 

'  fully  —  and  until  the   amount   in  hand  is   large 

enough   to   warrant   beginning   operations,    Miss 

Vail  naturally  will  be  its  guardian." 

"I?"  said  Helena  hesitatingly.  "I  —  I  am 
only  a  girl,  I  would  not  know  what  to  do." 

'  You  would  not  have  to  do  anything,  Miss 
Vail,"  Madison  informed  her  reassuringly. 
"  When  the  time  comes  for  advice,  the  making 
of  plans  and  the  carrying  of  them  out,  the  bright- 
est minds  in  this  country  will  be  offered  freely 
and  voluntarily,  you  will  see." 

"  And  meanwhile,"  inquired  Thornton  —  he 
had  been  studying  Helena's  profile  intently, 
"  would  you  propose  keeping  the  contributions 
here?" 

"Of  course!"  said  Madison.  "And  not 
only  here,  but  openly  displayed  as  an  added  in- 
centive for  others  to  give  —  if  added  incentive  be 
needed.  Here,  for  instance  " —  he  rose  as  he 
spoke,  went  to  the  mantel  over  the  fireplace  and 
jlifted  down  a  quaint,  japanned  box,  fashioned  in 
'the  shape  of  a  little  chest,  which  he  placed  upon 
the  table.  "  And  here,  too  " —  he  crossed  to  the 
bookshelves  in  the  alcove,  and  took  down  a  very 
old,  flexible-covered  book.  "  Once,"  he  said, 
"  the  Patriarch  showed  me  this.  It  was  a  blank 
book  originally,  half  of  it  is  blank  still;  but  in 


156  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

the  front,  in  the  Patriarch's  own  writing,  is  an 
essay  he  wrote  in  the  years  gone  by  on  '  The 
Power  of  Faith  ' —  what  could  be  more  fitting 
than  that  the  remaining  pages  should  be  filled 
with  a  record  of  the  contributions  to  that  faith?  " 
He  laid  the  book  on  the  table  beside  the  little 
chest,  and  sat  down  again.  "  There  is  no  dis- 
play, no  ornamentation,  no  attempt  at  anything 
of  that  kind  —  it  is  simplicity,  those  things 
serving  which  are  first  at  hand  —  as  it  seems  to 
me  it  should  be  —  those  who  give  record  their 
names  and  gifts  in  this  book  —  the  little  chest  to 
hold  the  gifts  is  open,  free  to  the  inspection  of 
all." 

"But  is  that  wise?"  demurred  Thornton. 
"  So  large  a  sum  of  money  as  must  accumulate  to 
be  left  openly  about?  Would  it  not  be  a  tempta- 
tion to  some  to  steal?  Might  it  not  even  endan- 
ger Miss  Vail  and  the  Patriarch  himself  — 
subject  them,  indeed,  to  attack?" 

"  I  get  your' idea,"  said  Madison  to  himself  — 
while  he  gazed  at  Thornton  in  pained  surprise; 
"  but  there'll  never  be  more  than  the  day's  catch 
in  the  box  at  a  time,  though  of  course  you  don't 
know  that.  You  see,  we'll  empty  it  every  night, 
and  start  it  off  fresh  every  morning,  with  a  trinket 
or  two  put  back  for  bait.  I'm  glad  you  men- 
tioned it  though,  it's  a  little  detail  I  mustn't  forget 
to  speak  to  the  Flopper  about."  But  aloud  he 
said,  and  there  was  a  sort  of  shocked  awe  in  his 
voice:  "Steal  —  here!  In  this  sacred  place! 
No  man  would  dare  —  the  most  hardened  crimi- 


REAL  MONEY  157 

nal  would  draw  back.  Why  do  even  we  who  sit 
here  speak  as  we  have  been  speaking  with  hushed 
and  lowered  voices?  —  that  very  sense  of  a  pres- 
ence unseen  around  us,  that  hovers  over  us,  is  a 
mightier  safeguard  than  the  strongest  bolts  and 
locks,  than  the  steel-barred  vaults  of  any  bank. 
It  would  seem  indeed  to  profane  our  own  faith 
even  to  entertain  such  an  idea  —  to  me  this  place 
is  a  solemn  shrine,  and  there  is  only  purity  and 
faith  and  stillness  here,  the  dwelling  place  of  a 
power  as  compassionate  as  it  is  mighty." 

Madison  stopped  abruptly  —  and  a  silence  fell. 
Each  seemed  busy  with  their  own  thoughts. 
About  them  was  quiet,  stillness,  peace  —  twilight 
was  falling,  and  a  soft,  mellow  light  was  in  the 
room. 

"  No  one  would  dare  " —  the  words  came  from 
Mrs.  Thornton  in  almost  breathless  corrobora- 
tion,  almost  of  their  own  accord  it  seemed,  as 
though  heavy  upon  her  lay  the  solemnity  of  her 
surroundings. 

Madison's  hand  went  to  his  pocket  —  slowly 
he  drew  out  his  check-book  and  laid  it  upon  the 
table. 

"  I  am  not  a  rich  man  " — his  voice  was  very 
low,  very  earnest — "  but  I  feel  that  this  is  some- 
'  thing  deeper,  grander,  bigger  than  anything  the 
world  perhaps  has  ever  known  before ;  something 
higher  and  above  one's  own  self;  it  seems  as 
though  here  were  the  chrysalis  that,  once  devel- 
oped to  its  perfect  state,  would  sweep  pain  and 
sorrow  from  suffering  humanity;  it  is  as  though 


i5 8  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

a  new,  glad  era  had  dawned  for  all  mankind.  I 
am  glad  to  give  and  humbly  proud  to  have  a  part 
in  this."  He  took  out  his  fountain  pen,  opened 
the  check-book,  and  began  to  write. 

Thornton  leaned  forward  a  little,  watching 
him. 

Silence  fell  again  —  there  was  no  sound  save 
the  almost  inaudible  scratching  of  Madison's  pen. 
Upon  Mrs.  Thornton's  face  was  a  happy,  radiant 
smile;  Helena's  face  was  impassive,  but  in  the 
dark  eyes  lurked  a  puzzled  light;  the  two  Holmes 
sat  awkwardly,  still  upon  the  edges  of  their  chairs, 
gazing  at  their  son  across  the  room,  incredulously, 
as  though  they  still  could  not  believe  —  and  oc- 
casionally Mrs.  Holmes  wiped  her  eyes. 

Madison's  pen  moved  on:  "  Pay  to  the  order 
of  Miss  Helena  Vail  the  sum  of  ten  thousand 
dollars."  He  carefully  inscribed  the  amount  in 
numerals  in  the  lower  left-hand  corner.  "  Hon- 
est," he  confided  to  himself,  as  he  signed  the 
check,  "  I  feel  so  philanthropic  I  could  almost 
make  myself  believe  I  had  this  money  in  the  bank." 
He  tore  the  check  from  its  stub,  and,  standing 
up,  handed  it  to  Helena.  "  I  am  not  a  rich  man, 
Miss  Vail,  as  I  said,"  he  smiled  gravely,  "  but  I 
can  give  this,  and  I  give  it  with  great  joy  in  my 
heart." 

Helena  took  the  check,  glanced  at  it,  gasped  a 
little,  lifted  her  eyes,  an  instant's  mocking  glint 
in  them,  and  veiled  them  quickly  with  her  long 
lashes. 

"  No  " —  Madison's  hand,  palm  up,  went  out 


REAL  MONEY  159 

protestingly  — "  no,  do  not  thank  me  —  it  is  lit- 
tle enough."  He  sat  down  again,  drew  the 
Patriarch's  blank  book  toward  him,  and,  on  the 
line  beneath  the  one  where  the  Patriarch  had 
ended  his  essay  with  the  words,  "  such  is  the  power 
of  faith,"  wrote  his  name  and  set  down  the 
amount  of  his  contribution  after  it. 

"  Ten  thousand  dollars  1  " —  it  was  Mrs. 
Thornton  speaking,  as  she  took  the  check  from 
Helena.  She  turned  quickly  to  her  husband. 
"  Robert,  have  you  your  check-book  here?  " 

Thornton  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  dear,"  he  said.     "  I'm  afraid  I  haven't." 

"  Well,  it  doesn't  matter,"  said  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton brightly.  "  You  can  use  one  of  Mr.  Madi- 
son's checks  and  write  the  name  of  your  own  bank 
on  it  —  you've  often  done  that,  you  know." 

"  A  suggestion,"  said  Madison  to  himself, 
"for  which  I  thank  you,  Mrs.  Thornton  —  it 
sounds  so  much  less  crude  coming  from  you  than 
from  me."  But  aloud  he  said  courteously. 
"  Take  my  pen,  Mr.  Thornton." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Thornton,  as  Madison 
placed  it  in  his  hand. 

Mrs.  Thornton  and  her  husband  had  their  heads 
together  now,  and  were  whispering  —  Thornton 
with  his  eyes  on  Helena,  who  sat  with  lowered 
head,  twirling  Madison's  check  in  her  hands. 
Then  Thornton  drew  the  check-book  toward  him, 
scratched  out  the  printed  name  of  the  bank  that 
it  bore,  wrote  in  another,  and  went  on  filling  out 
the  check. 


160  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  Eeny-meeny-miny-mo,"  said  Madison  to  him- 
self. "  The  suspense  is  awful.  How  much  does 
he  raise  the  ante?  Next  to  the  miracle,  this  is 
the  first  real  thrill  I've  had  —  I  feel  like  an  ele- 
vator starting  down  quick." 

As  Madison  had  done,  Thornton  tore  out  the 
check  and  handed  it  to  Helena.  Helena  stared 
at  it,  lifted  her  eyes  to  Thornton,  flushed  —  and 
looked  down  at  the  check  again. 

"  Fifty  thousand"  she  murmured  breathlessly. 

"Splendid!"  cried  Madison  enthusiastically, 
rising  from  his  chair  and  pushing  the  newly  estab- 
lished record  of  contributions  toward  Thornton. 
"  Splendid !  There's  sixty  thousand  of  the  five 
hundred  already.  Splendid!  " 

Young  Holmes  ran  toward  his  parents. 

"  I  want  to  give  too,  dad,"  he  whispered.  "  I 
want  to  give  too." 

"  Reckon  so,"  said  Holmes,  getting  up  heavily. 
"  Reckon  so  —  an'  I  was  a-goin'  to.  I  ain't  got 
much  though,"  he  added  timorously,  as  his  hand 
went  into  his  pocket. 

There  was  a  little  exclamation  from  Helena, 
and  she  moved  a  step  forward  as  though  to  in- 
terpose. Madison  looked  at  her  quickly  —  and 
quietly  stepped  around  the  table,  placing  himself 
between  her  and  Holmes;  and,  facing  Holmes, 
leaned  over  the  table  from  the  far  side  toward  the 
other. 

"  It's  not  the  amount,  Holmes,"  he  said  kindly. 
"  In  the  broad,  true  sense  the  amount  counts  for 
nothing  —  all  cannot  give  the  same." 


REAL  MONEY  161 

"  Yes,"  said  Holmes.  "  Reckon  that's  the  way 
I  feel."  He  counted  the  bills  in  his  hand,  and 
dropped  them  into  the  little  japanned  box;  then 
scrawled  his  name  in  the  book  beneath  Thorn- 
ton's, adding  the  amount  —  eight  dollars. 

Madison  looked  around  the  group  benignantly. 

"  I  think  they  should  know  out  there  what 
we  have  done,"  he  said,  pointing  toward  the 
lawn.  "  Let  us  go  and  tell  them,  not  in  any  set 
speech,  but  just  simply  —  each  of  us  speaking 
to  a  few  —  the  few  will  tell  others.  Shall  we 
go?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton.  "Yes;  let  us. 
tell  them."  She  turned  to  Helena  and  kissed  her. 
"  Try  and  come  often  to  see  me,  dear  —  we  shall 
be  here  now  for  a  little  while  at  least.  Is  it  ask- 
ing too  much?  Robert  will  bring  you  back  and 
forth  from  the  village.  And  perhaps,  if  I  may, 
I  will  come  out  here  to  see  you  —  may  I  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  do  as  my  wife  sug- 
gests," said  Thornton,  holding  out  his  hand. 
"You  will  come,  Miss  Vail?" 

'  You  are  very  good,  both  of  you,"  Helena  an- 
swered simply.  She  raised  her  eyes  to  Thornton 
• —  her  hand  was  still  in  his.  "  Yes,  I  will  try  to 
come." 

"  Oh,  break  away!  "  muttered  Madison  impa- 
tiently —  but  silently.  He  stepped  to  the  door 
and  opened  it.  "  Will  you  lead  the  way,  Mrs. 
Thornton?"  he  said  calmly. 

Thornton  and  his  wife  passed  out;  and  the 
Holmes,  with  clumsy,  earnest  words  upon  their 


162  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

lips  to  Helena,   followed.     Madison  hung  back 
—  then  stepped  quickly  to  Helena. 

"  Tear  up  that  check  of  mine  so  small  you  can't 
find  the  pieces,  Helena,"  he  said  hurriedly;  "  and 
send  Thornton's  right  off  to  any  old  bank  you  like 
in  New  York.  Endorse  it,  and  write  them  a  note 
saying  you  wish  to  open  an  account.  Enclose 
your  signature,  and  tell  them  to  mail  back  the 
bank-book,  a  check-book,  deposit  slips  and  all  that. 
They'll  know  by  the  newspapers  that  Thornton's 
subscribed  fifty  thousand  before  they  get  the  check, 
and  they'll  feel  honored  to  be  your  depository. 
Do  it  to-night,  understand?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Helena,  nodding  her  head.  "  I'll 
see  to  it  all  right."  Then,  a  little  perturbed: 
"  But  those  poor  Holmes  and  their  eight  dollars, 
Doc,  I  — " 

"  Now  don't  be  greedy,  Helena,"  said  Madi- 
son cheerfully.  "  You  mustn't  expect  everybody 
to  hand  out  ten  and  fifty  thousand,  just  because 
Thornton  and  I  did  —  try  and  appreciate  the  lit- 
tle things  of  life  too." 

"  Oh !  "  exclaimed  Helena  angrily.  "  Doc 
Madison,  I'd  like  to  — " 

'  Yes,  all  right,  of  course,"  interrupted  Madi- 
son, grinning.  "  Good-by,  that's  all  —  I'm  off  — 
see,  they're  waiting  for  me " —  and  leaving 
Helena  with  an  outraged  little  flush  upon  her 
cheek,  he  hurried  through  the  door  after  the 
others. 


—  XIV  — 

KNOTTING  THE   STRINGS 

IT  is  a  very  old  saying,  and  therefore  of 
course  indisputably  true,  that  some  have 
greatness  thrust  upon  them.  True  of  men, 
it  is,  in  one  instance  at  least,  true  of  places 
—  Needley,  from  an  unheard  of,  modest,  innocu- 
ous and  unassuming  little  hamlet,  leaped  in  a  flash 
into  the  focus  of  the  world's  eyes.  In  huge  head- 
lines the  papers  in  every  city  of  every  State  car- 
ried it  on  their  front  pages.  And  while  the  first 
astounding  despatch  from  the  metropolitan  news- 
paper man  was  being  copied  by  leading  dailies 
everywhere,  there  came  on  top  of  it,  clinching 
its  veracity  beyond  possibility  of  doubt,  the  news 
that  Robert  Thornton,  the  well  known  Chicago 
multi-millionaire,  had  given  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars to  the  cause.  A  man,  much  less  a  multi-mil- 
lionaire, does  not  give  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  a 
bubble,  so  the  managing  editors  of  the  leading 
dailies  rushed  for  their  star  reporters  —  and  the 
star  reporters  rushed  for  Needley  —  and  the  red- 
haired,  sorrowful-faced  man  in  the  Needley  sta- 
tion grew  haggard,  tottered  on  the  verge  of 
collapse,  and,  between  the  sheafs  of  flimsy  that 
the  reporters  fought  for  the  opportunity  of  push- 
ing at  him,  wired  desperately  for  a  relief. 

163 


1 64  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Needley  awoke  and  came  to  life  —  as  from  the 
dead.  There  was  bustle,  activity,  and  suppressed 
and  unsuppressed  excitement  on  every  hand  — 
the  Waldorf  Hotel  once  more  opened  its  doors 
—  the  Congress  Hotel  was  already  full. 

The  reporters  interviewed  everybody  with  but 
one  exception  —  the  Patriarch. 

They  interviewed  Madison  —  and  Madison 
talked  to  them  gravely,  quietly,  a  little  self-dep- 
recatingly,  a  little  abashed  at  the  thought  of 
personal  exploitage. 

"  I  wouldn't  be  interviewed  at  all,"  he  told 
them,  "  if  it  were  not  that  mankind  at  large  is 
entitled  to  every  bit  of  evidence  that  can  be  ob- 
tained. Yes;  I  gave  what  I  could  afford,  but  it 
was  Holmes,  a  poor  man,  who  gave  most  of  all  — 
have  you  seen  him?  Myself?  What  does  that 
matter?  I  am  unknown,  my  personality,  unlike 
Mr.  Thornton's,  can  carry  no  weight.  I  am,  I 
suppose,  what  you  might  call  a  rolling  stone,  a 
world  wanderer.  My  parents  left  me  a  moderate 
fortune,  and  I  have  travelled  pretty  well  and 
pretty  constantly  all  over  the  world  during  the 
last  twelve  or  fifteen  years.  How  did  I  come  to 
Needley?  Well,  you  can  call  it  luck,  or  some- 
thing more  than  that,  whichever  way  it  appeals 
to  you.  I  was  feeling  seedy,  a  little  off-color, 
and  I  started  down  for  a  rest  and  lay-off  in  Maine. 
I  happened  to  ask  a  man  in  Portland  if  he  knew 
of  a  quiet  place.  He  meant  to  be  humorous,  I 
imagine.  He  said  Needley  was  the  quietest 
place  he  knew  of.  I  took  him  at  his  word." 


KNOTTING  THE  STRINGS        165 

"  But  how  do  you  account  for  these  miraculous 
cures?  "  they  asked. 

"  You  have  seen  them  —  the  results,"  Madi- 
son replied.  "  You  know  the  cures  to  be  living, 
vital,  irrefutable  facts  —  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,"  they  agreed. 

"  Then,"  said  Madison,  "  there  can  be  but  one 
answer  —  faith.  There  is  no  other  —  faith. 
Are  we  not,  in  view  of  what  has  happened,  of 
what  exists  before  our  very  eyes,  forced  to  the 
belief  that  faith  is  the  greatest  thing,  the  most 
potential  factor  in  the  world?  " 

"  And  do  you  believe  then  that  all  who  come 
here  will  be  cured?  " 

Madison  shook  his  head. 

"  Ah,  no,"  he  said;  "  far  from  it.  Many  will 
come  with  but  the  semblance  of  faith,  and  for 
those  there  can  be  no  cure  —  that  is  evident  on 
the  face  of  it,  is  it  not?  " 

They  interviewed  Thornton  —  and  Thornton, 
too,  talked  to  them,  but  the  very  presence  of  Mrs. 
Thornton  was  weightier  far  than  words. 

They  interviewed  the  Holmes,  and  they  inter- 
viewed Needley  individually  and  collectively;  and 
they  interviewed  Helena  —  but  they  did  not  in- 
terview the  Patriarch.  Here  Helena  barred  their 
way  —  they  were  free  to  enter  the  cottage,  to 
copy  the  names,  the  record  of  gifts  inscribed  in 
the  book,  already  a  long  list  for  Needley  had  re- 
quired no  other  incentive  to  give  than  the  exam- 
ple that  had  been  set  —  but  that  was  all.  Quietly, 
with  demure  simplicity,  Helena,  prompted  by 


1 66  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Madison,  like  a  priestess  who  guards  some  holy, 
inner  shrine,  told  them  that  sensational  notoriety 
had  no  place  there  —  and  the  notoriety  for  that 
very  cause  became  the  greater!  Not  that  they 
were  denied  a  sight  of  the  Patriarch's  venerable 
and  saintly  form  —  they  were  permitted  to  catch 
glimpses  of  him  on  the  beach,  on  the  lawn,  walk- 
ing with  bowed  head  in  meditation,  a  figure  whose 
simple  majesty  inspired  words  and  columns  of 
glowing  tribute  —  but  from  personal  contact, 
Helena  and  the  Flopper,  always  in  attendance, 
warded  them  off;  retreating  always  to  the  privacy 
of  the  cottage,  to  the  inner  rooms. 

All  this  had  taken  four  days;  and  now,  on  the 
fourth  day,  there  came  to  Needley  the  vanguard 
of  those  who  sought  this  new  healing  power  — * 
just  a  few  of  them,  two  or  three,  like  far,  out- 
flung  skirmishers  evidencing  the  presence  of  the 
army  corps  to  follow.  With  the  reporters,  as 
far  as  Madison  was  concerned,  it  was  simple 
enough;  he  had  but  to  let  them  go  their  way,  to 
let  them  revel  in  the  stories  that  were  on  every 
tongue,  to  let  them  view  with  their  own  eyes  facts, 
while  he,  modestly  and  diffidently,  fulh  of  quiet 
earnestness,  effaced  himself,  never  thrusting  him- 
self forward,  talking  to  them  only  when  they 
pressed  him  —  but  the  handling  of  the  sufferers 
who  would  flock  to  Needley  in  response  to  a  news- 
paper publicity  and  endorsement  that  had  been 
beyond  his  wildest  dreams,  was  quite  another  mat- 
ter. Madison  viewed  the  first  arrivals  — 


KNOTTING  THE  STRINGS        167 

brought  in  from  the  station  on  cot  beds  to  the 
Waldorf  Hotel  —  and  retired  to  his  room  in  the 
Congress  Hotel  to  wrestle  with  the  niceties  and 
minutiae  of  the  problem. 

"  You  see,"  said  Madison  to  the  tip  of  his  cigar, 
as  he  tilted  back  his  chair  and  extended  his  legs 
full  length  with  his  heels  comfortably  up  on  the 
table  edge,  "  you  see,  I  believe  in  faith  all  right 
—  and  that's  no  josh.  But  the  trouble  with  faith 
is  that  it's  about  the  scarcest  article  on  earth  — > 
and  I  haven't  got  any  more  Floppers  to  lead  the 
way."  Madison  adroitly  sent  the  cigar  ash 
through  the  window  with  a  tap  of  his  forefinger 
on  the  body  of  the  cigar  —  he  frowned,  and  for 
a  long  time  sat  musingly  silent.  Then  he  spoke 
again;  this  time  addressing  the  toes  of  his  boots: 
"  With  the  house  sold  out  for  the  season,  the  box- 
office  doing  itself  proud  and  the  audience  crazy 
over  the  first  two  acts,  how  about  Act  Three  — • 
h'm?  —  how  about  Act  Three?  Kind  of  a  deli- 
cate proposition,  the  staging  of  Act  Three  — •  and 
it's  time  for  the  curtain  to  go  up.  I  can  hear  'em 
stamping  out  front  now.  I  can't  pull  off  any  more 
orgies  like  last  Monday  afternoon,  even  if  I 
wanted  to  —  but  everybody's  got  to  have  a  run 
for  their  money.  Say,  how  about  Act  Three?" 

Madison  burned  up  quite  a  little  tobacco  in  the 
interval  before  supper,  and  quite  a  little  more  aft- 
erward before  the  setting  for  his  perplexing 
"  Third  Act  "  appeared  to  unfold  itself  satisfacto- 
rily before  his  mind  —  indeed,  it  was  close  onto 


1 68  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

half  past  ten  when,  by  a  roundabout  way,  he  very 
cautiously  and  silently  approached  the  Patriarch's 
cottage. 

In  the  front  of  the  cottage,  the  Shrine-room,  as 
he  christened  it,  and  the  Patriarch's  sleeping  room 
were  both  dark.  Madison  passed  around  to  the 
beach  side  —  here,  Helena's  room  was  dark  too, 
but  in  the  Flopper's  window,  the  end  room  next 
to  the  kitchen  and  woodshed,  there  was  a  light. 
The  night  was  warm,  and,  though  the  shade  was 
drawn,  the  window  was  open.  Madison  whistled 
softly,  and  the  Flopper  stuck  out  his  head. 

"Hello,  Flopper,"  said  Madison;  "come  out 
here  —  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you.  Helena 
in  bed?" 

"  No;  she's  out,"  replied  the  Flopper. 

"Well,  hurry  up  I"  said  Madison.  "Come 
around  in  front  by  the  trellis  where  we  can  see  the 
other  fellow  first  if  anybody  happens  to  be  stroll- 
ing about." 

Madison  withdrew  from  the  window  and 
walked  around  to  the  front  of  the  cottage.  Here, 
a  few  yards  from  the  porch,  by  the  trellis,  already 
beginning  to  be  leafy  green,  was  a  rustic  bench 
on  which  he  seated  himself.  The  moon  was  not 
full,  but  there  was  light  enough  to  enable  him  to 
see  across  the  lawn  through  the  interposing  row 
of  maples,  and,  hidden  by  the  shadows  himself, 
the  seat  strategetically  met  his  requirements. 

Presently,  the  Flopper  came  out  of  the  front 
door  and  joined  him. 

"  Say,  Doc,"  announced  the  Flopper  abruptly, 


KNOTTING  THE  STRINGS        169 

"  de  Patriarch's  been  askin'  fer  youse  yesterday 
an'  to-day." 

"  Asking?  "  repeated  Madison. 

"  Sure,"  said  the  Flopper.  "  He  can  scrawl  if 
he  is  blind,  can't  he?  He  scrawls  yer  name  on 
de  slate.  We  can't  tell  him  nothin',  an'  he's 
kinder  got  de  fidgets  like  he  t'inks  youse  had  flown 
de  coop." 

"  That's  so,"  said  Madison.  "  It  is  rather 
difficult  to  communicate  with  him,  isn't  it?  I 
guess  we'll  have  to  get  him  some  raised  letters." 

"  What's  them?  "  inquired  the  Flopper. 

"  I  don't  know  exactly,"  Madison  answered. 
"  I  never  saw  any,  but  I  believe  they  have  such 
things.  Been  asking  for  me,  has  he?  Well,  I'll 
fix  it  to  see  him  to-morrow.  Where  did  you  say 
Helena  had  gone?  " 

"  I  said  she  was  out,"  said  the  Flopper.  "  If 
you  ask  me  where,  I'd  say  de  same  place  as  last 
night  an'  de  night  before  —  down  to  dat  private 
car  wid  his  nibs.  Say,  dere's  some  class  to  dat 
guy  all  right,  an'  I  guess  Helena  ain't  got  her  eyes 
shut." 

"  Hey !  "  ejaculated  Madison.  "  What  do 
you  mean?  " 

"Well,  he's  got  de  rocks,  ain't  he?"  declared 
the  Flopper.  "  Why  shouldn't  she  be  after  him? 
Dat's  wot  we're  here  fer,  ain't  it,  de  whole  bunch 
of  us?  —  an'  she  ain't  t'rowin'  us,  is  she,  if  she 
sees  a  chanst  to  pick  up  somet'ing  on  her  own?  " 

Madison  turned  quickly  on  the  Flopper. 

"  You  mean,"  he  said  sharply,  "  that  there's 


1 7o  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

something  going  on  between  Helena  and  Thorn- 
ton —  already?  " 

"  Aw,  stop  kiddin' !  "  said  the  Flopper.  "  Al- 
ready!  Wot's  '  already  '  got  to  do  wid  it?  We 
ain't  none  of  us  church  members,  are  we?  Say, 
where'd  you  pick  up  Helena  yerself — and  how 
long  did  it  take  youse?  I  don't  know  whether 
dere's  anyt'ing  goin'  on  or  not  —  mabbe  she's 
only  gettin'  lonely  —  youse  ain't  hung  around  her 
much  lately,  Doc." 

Madison  laughed  suddenly. 

"  You're  talking  through  your  hat,  Flopper," 
he  said  shortly.  "  You  don't  know  Helena." 

"  It's  a  wise  guy  dat  knows  skirts,"  said  the 
Flopper  profoundly;  then,  with  something  ap- 
proaching a  sigh:  "  Say,  Doc,  dere's  a  lalapazoo- 
zoo,  a  peach  down  here." 

"  Hullo !  "  exclaimed  Madison,  shooting  a  hur- 
ried and  critical  glance  at  the  Flopper  in  the  moon- 
light. "What's  this,  Flopper  —  what's  this? 
What  have  you  been  up  to  ?  You're  supposed  to 
be  attending  strictly  to  business." 

"  An'  you  needn't  t'ink  I  ain't,"  asserted  the 
Flopper.  "  But  I  can't  stop  de  town  fallin'  over 
itself  to  bring  de  whole  farmyard,  an'  eggs,  an' 
butter,  an'  flour,  an'  everyt'ing  else  out  here  every 
mornin',  can  I  ?  She's  blown  in  twice  wid  cream 
fer  de  Patriarch." 

;' WTiat's  her  name?"  inquired  Madison 
quizzically. 

"  Mamie  Rodgers,"  said  the  Flopper.  "  She 
says  her  old  man  keeps  a  store  in  de  village." 


KNOTTING  THE  STRINGS        171 

"  I  know  her,"  nodded  Madison.  "  Pretty 
girl  and  all  right,  Flopper.  But  mind  what  you're 
doing,  that's  all.  I  don't  want  any  complications 
to  queer  things  around  here  —  understand  ?  But 
let's  get  down  to  the  business  that  I  came  out 
about  —  the  lay  from  now  on.  You  can  put 
Helena  wise." 

"  Sure,"  said  the  Flopper  earnestly. 

"  Well  then,  listen,"  said  Madison.  "  The  pa- 
tients have  begun  to  arrive  —  there  were  three  of 
them  in  to-day.  There's  no  more  circus  parades 
—  everything's  under  the  tent  after  this.  I  want 
you  to  wean  the  Patriarch  entirely  from  that  front 
room  —  that's  to  be  free  for  anybody  to  enter 
so's  they  can  drink  in  atmosphere  —  and  see  the 
contribution  box.  But  they  don't  see  the  Patri- 
arch. Get  his  armchair  into  his  own  room,  make 
him  comfortable  there  —  get  the  idea?  Now, 
there's  no  consultation  hours  —  the  Patriarch 
can't  be  seen  just  by  asking  for  him  —  the  only 
chance  they  get  at  the  Patriarch  is  by  an  exercise 
of  patience  that'll  work  their  faith  up  to  a  pitch 
that'll  do  them  some  good.  The  harder  it  is  to 
get  a  thing,  the  more  it's  worth  and  the  more  you 
want  it  —  that's  the  principle.  See?  " 

"  Sure,"  said  the  Flopper,  licking  his  lips. 

"  Sometimes,"  Madison  went  on,  "  you're  to 
keep  the  Patriarch  under  cover  for  two  or  three 
days,  while  they  hang  around  working  themselves 
into  a  frenzy.  And  when  they  do  see  him  they 
have  to  scramble  for  it.  You  don't  lead  him  out 
to  them  —  ever.  Make  them  waylay  him  when 


172  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

you  take  him  for  a  walk  —  make  them  crawl  and 
hop  and  show  they've  got  faith,  make  them  be- 
lieve they've  got  faith  themselves  —  we'll  get 
some  more  cures,  or  near-cures  anyway,  that  way, 
and  we  won't  get  them  any  other  way, 
and  we've  got  to  have  some  sort  of  cures  coming 
•along  fairly  regularly.  Do  you  get  me,  Flopper? 
If  there's  a  party  on  a  cot  a  hundred  yards  away 
and  he  begs  you  to  bring  the  Patriarch  to  him, 
say  him  nay.  Everybody  has  got  to  get  into  the 
reserved  paddock  by  themselves  —  tell  them  that 
no  man  can  be  cured  who  has  not  got  the  faith  to 
reach  the  Patriarch  by  himself  —  tell  them  to  get 
up  and  walk  to  him  —  tell  them  what  you  did." 

"  Swipe  me !  "  said  the  Flopper.  "  Say,  Doc, 
youse  are  de  one  an'  only.  I  gotcher  —  put  it  up 
to  dem  everytime." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Madison.  "  It's  their  move 
every  minute  —  make  them  feel  that  if  they  don't 
get  what  they're  after  it's  their  own  fault  —  that 
it's  their  own  lack  of  faith  that's  to  blame.  And 
the  longer  they  have  to  wait  to  see  the  Patriarch, 
the  more  they  become  impressed  that  faith  is  nec- 
essary, and  —  oh,  well,  psychology  is  the  greatest 
jollier  of  them  all." 

"Eh?"  inquired  the  Flopper.  "I  ain't  on 
dere,  Doc." 

"  It's  very  simple,"  smiled  Madison.  "  They'll 
want  to  convince  themselves  that  they  have  got 
faith,  that  it's  all  bottled  up  and  ready  to  have 
the  cork  drawn  when  called  for,  and  they'll  prove 


KNOTTING  THE  STRINGS        173 

it  to  themselves  by  laying  an  offering  upon  the 
shrine  as  evidence  of  faith  before  the  goods  are 
delivered." 

"  I  gotcher!  "  said  the  Flopper  enthusiastically. 
"  Why  say,  Doc,  dat's  de  way  I'd  do  meself  — •» 
swipe  me,  if  I  wouldn't!  " 

"  That's  the  way  nearly  everybody  would  do," 
said  Madison,  laughing.  "  There's  at  least  a  few 
similar  kinks  common  to  our  noble  race  —  we're 
busy  most  of  the  time  trying  to  fool  ourselves  one 
way  or  another.  Well,  that's  about  all.  I  can't 
lay  out  a  programme  for  every  minute  of  the  day 
—  you  and  Helena  have  got  to  use  your  heads 
and  work  along  that  general  idea.  You  play  up 
your  gratitude  strong.  And,  oh  yes  —  keep  the 
altar  box  well  baited.  Let  Helena  put  some  of 
her  near-diamond  rings  and  joujabs  in  until  we 
collect  some  genuine  ones  —  and  then  keep  the 
genuine  ones  going  —  change  every  day  for  va- 
riety, you  know.  And  take  the  silver  money  out 
every  time  you  see  any  in  —  not  that  we  scorn  it 
in  the  great  aggregate,  far  from  it  —  it's  just 
psychology  again,  Flopper.  I  went  to  church 
once  and  sat  beside  a  duck  with  a  white  waistcoat 
and  chop  whiskers,  who  wore  the  dollar  sign  stick- 
ing out  so  thick  all  over  him  that  you  couldn't  see 
anything  else;  and  when  it  came  time  for  collec- 
tion he  peeled  a  bill  off  a  roll  the  size  of  a  house, 
and  waited  for  the  collection  plate  to  come  along. 
But  he  got  his  eye  on  the  plate  a  couple  of  pews 
ahead  and  it  was  full  of  coppers  and  chicken  feed, 


i74  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

and  he  did  the  palming  act  with  the  bill  slicker 
than  a  faro  dealer  —  and  whispered  to  me  to 
change  a  quarter  for  him." 

"  And  did  you  ?  "  asked  the  Flopper  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  wake  up,  Flopper!"  grinned  Madison4^ 
then,  suddenly :  "  Hullo  !  Who's  that  ?  " 

Across  the  lawn,  coming  through  the  row  of 
maples  from  the  direction  of  the  wagon  track, 
appeared  two  figures. 

"  Dat's  who,"  said  the  Flopper,  after  gazing  an 
instant.  "  It's  Helena  an'  Thornton." 

"  So  it  is,"  agreed  Madison.  "  Get  behind  the 
trellis  here  then  —  it  wouldn't  do  for  him  to  see 
me  out  here  at  this  time  of  night." 

They  rose  noiselessly  from  the  bench,  and 
slipped  quickly  behind  the  trellis.  Toward  them, 
walking  slowly  came  the  two  figures,  Helena  lean- 
ing on  Thornton's  arm.  Thornton  was  talking, 
but  in  too  low  a  tone  to  be  overheard.  Then  a 
silence  appeared  to  fall  between  the  two,  and  it 
was  not  until  they  reached  the  porch,  close  to 
Madison  and  the  Flopper,  that  either  spoke  again. 

Then  Thornton  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Good-night,  Miss  Vail  —  and  good-by  tem- 
porarily," he  said.  "  I  suppose  I  shall  be  gone 
four  or  five  days;  I'm  going  up  on  the  morning 
train,  you  know.  I  wish  you'd  go  as  often  as  you 
can  to  see  Naida  in  the  car  while  I'm  away  —  will 
you?  Her  condition  worries  me,  though  she  in- 
sists that  she  is  completely  cured,  and  she  will  not 
listen  to  any  advice.  I  have  an  idea  that  she  has 
overtaxed  herself  —  apart  from  her  hip  disease, 


KNOTTING  THE  STRINGS        175 

her  heart  was  in  a  very  critical  state.  You'll  go 
to  her,  won't  you?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Helena,  "  of  course,  I  will." 

Their  voices  dropped  lower,  and  for  a  moment 
only  a  murmur  reached  Madison;  and  then,  with 
another  "  Good-night,  Miss  Vail,"  Thornton 
started  back  across  the  lawn. 

Madison  could  hear  Helena  fumbling  with  the 
door  latch,  and  by  the  time  she  had  succeeded  in 
opening  the  door  the  retreating  figure  of  Thorn- 
ton was  a  safe  distance  away.  Madison  called 
in  a  whisper: 

"  Here,  Helena !     Wait  a  minute !  " 

There  was  a  quick,  startled  little  exclamation 
from  the  doorway,  and  Helena  came  out  hurriedly 
from  the  porch. 

"Who's  there?"  she  cried  in  a  low  voice. 
"  Oh  " —  as  they  stepped  into  view  — "  you,  Doc, 
and  the  Flopper!  What  were  you  doing  behind 
that  trellis?" 

"  Keeping  out  of  Thornton's  road,"  said  Madi- 
son. "So  he's  going  away,  eh?  What  for?" 

"  Business,"  replied  Helena.  "  Has  to  go  to 
some  meeting  in  Chicago  —  he's  leaving  his  wife 
and  the  private  car  here.  What  did  you  come  at 
this  hour  for?  " 

"  Lines  for  the  next  act,"  said  Madison;  "  but 
the  Flopper's  got  it  all,  and  he'll  put  you  on." 
He  stepped  toward  Helena  and  slipped  his  arm 
around  her  waist.  "  Come  on,  it's  early  yet,  let's 
go  for  a  little  walk.  The  Flopper'll  excuse  us, 
and  I  — " 


176  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  I  thought  you  said,"  Helena  interrupted,  dis- 
engaging herself  quietly,  "  that  we  had  to  play 
the  game  to  the  limit  and  take  no  chances." 

"  Well,  so  I  did,"  admitted  Madison,  and  his 
arm  crept  around  her  again;  "but  I  guess  we've 
earned  a  little  holiday  and  — " 

'  Nix  on  that,'  I  think  was  what  you  said," 
said  Helena  with  a  queer  little  laugh,  drawing 
away  again.  "  And  I  really  think  you  were  right, 
Doc  —  we  ought  to  play  the  game  without  break- 
ing the  rules,  and  so  —  good-night  " —  and  she 
turned  and  ran  from  him  into  the  cottage. 

Madison  stared  after  her  in  a  sort  of  nelpless 
state  of  chagrin. 

"  Mabbe,"  said  the  Flopper,  "  mabbe  she's 
lonely." 


H 


—  XV  — 

A  MIRACLE   OVERDONE 

ELENA  sat  in  the  Patriarch's  room, 
and  her  piquant  little  face  was  pursed 
up  into  a  scowl  so  daintily  grim  as  to 
be  almost  ludicrous.  The  Patriarch, 
in  his  armchair,  had  been  scrawling  words  upon 
the  slate  all  evening  —  and  she  had  been  wiping 
them  off !  He  scrawled  another  now  —  and  me- 
chanically, without  looking  at  it,  by  way  of  answer 
she  pressed  his  arm  to  appease  him. 

She  had  been  restless  all  day,  and  she  was 
restless  now.  What  had  induced  her  to  treat 
Madison  the  way  she  had  the  night  before? 
Pique,  probably.  No ;  it  wasn't  pique.  It  was  just 
getting  back  at  him  —  and  he  deserved  it.  He 
hadn't  seemed  to  mind  it  much,  though  —  he  had 
only  laughed  and  teased  her  about  it  that  morn- 
ing when  he  had  joined  the  Patriarch  and  herself 
in  their  walk  along  the  beach. 

With  her  chin  in  her  hands,  she  began  to  study 
the  Patriarch  through  half  closed  eyes  —  deaf 
and  dumb  and  blind  —  and  somehow  it  all  seemed 
excruciatingly  funny  and  she  wanted  to  laugh  hys- 
terically. He  seemed  to  sense  the  fact  that  she 
was  looking  at  him,  and,  with  quick,  instant  in- 

177 


178  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

tuition,  he  smiled  and  reached  out  his  hand  to- 
ward her. 

Unconsciously,  involuntarily,  she  drew  back  — 
then,  recovering  herself  the  next  instant,  she  took 
his  hand.  Now,  why  had  she  done  that?  What 
was  the  matter  with  her?  Again  she  felt  that 
sudden  impulse  to  scream,  or  laugh,  or  shout,  or 
make  some  noise  —  it  seemed  as  though  she  were 
penned  in,  smothered  somehow,  imprisoned. 
What  was  the  matter  ?  Nerves  ?  She  had  never 
known  what  nerves  were  in  all  her  life !  Couldn't 
she  play  the  game  and  act  her  part  without  making 
a  fool  of  herself?  She  had  played  a  part  all  her 
life,  hadn't  she?  Maybe  it  was  quite  a  shock 
to  her  system  to  take  a  place  amongst  really  good 
and  simple  folk! 

She  laughed  a  little  shortly  —  then  rose  ab- 
ruptly from  her  chair,  and  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  room.  The  trouble  was  that  the  soft 
pedal  was  getting  unbearable.  That  air  of  awed 
hush  and  solemnity,  morning,  noon  and  night, 
without  anything  to  relieve  it,  was  just  a  trifle  too 
drastic  and  sudden  a  change  in  life  for  her  to  ac- 
cept calmly  and  swallow  in  one  dose  without  feel- 
ing any  effects  from  it!  If  she  could  be 
transported  now  for  an  hour,  say,  to  the  Roost, 
or  Heligman's  and  the  turkey  trot,  or  the  Rivoli, 
or  any  old  place  —  except  Needley,  Maine ! 

"  Gee!  "  said  Helena  to  herself.  "  If  I  don't 
break  loose  and  kick  the  traces  over  for  a  minute 
or  two,  I'll  be  clawing  the  bars  of  a  dippy  asylum 
before  I'm  through  —  and  just  listen  to  the  sweet, 


A  MIRACLE  OVERDONE         179 

girlish  language  I'm  using  —  I'd  like  to  bite  some- 
thing!" 

She  turned  impulsively  to  the  door,  stepped  out 
into  the  hall,  and  called  the  Flopper  from  his 
room. 

"  Flopper,  you  go  in  there  and  stay  with  the 
Patriarch  for  awhile,"  she  ordered  curtly.  "  I'm 
going  down  on  the  beach  to  yell." 

"Yell?"  inquired  the  Flopper,  blinking  help- 
lessly. 

"  I'm  going  outside  to  yell  —  yell.  You  know 
what  '  yell '  means,  don't  you?  "  she  snapped. 

"  Swipe  me !  "  observed  the  Flopper,  gazing  at 
her  anxiously.  "Skirts  is  all  de  same  —  youse 
never  know  wot  dey'll  do  next.  Wot  you  wanter 
yell  fer?" 

"  You  mind  your  own  business  and  do  as  you're 
told !  "  said  Helena  tartly.  "  Go  in  there  and  stay 
with  the  Patriarch." 

"  Sure,"  said  the  Flopper,  grinning  a  little  now. 
"  Sure  t'ing  —  but  youse  needn't  get  on  yer  ear 
about  it.  Cheer  up,  mabbe  de  Doc  '11  be  out  to- 
night, an'  if  he  don't  hear  youse  yellin'  himself 
will  I  tell  him  youse  are  out  on  de  beach  t'rowin' 
a  fit?" 

"No,"  Helena  answered  sharply;  "tell  him 
nothing  —  I'm  out."  Then,  quite  as  quickly, 
changing  her  mind:  "Yes;  tell  him  I'm  down 
there  —  or  come  and  get  me  yourself  " —  and  she 
walked  abruptly  into  her  own  room. 

"  Now  wot  do  youse  t'ink  of  dat?  "  demanded 
the  Flopper  of  the  universe.  He  blinked  at  the 


180  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

door  she  had  closed  in  his  face.  "  Say,"  he  as- 
serted, with  sublime  inconsistency,  "  if  Mamie 
Rodgers  was  like  all  de  rest  of  dem,  I'd  t'row  up 
me  dukes  before  de  gong  rang."  The  Flopper 
went  into  the  Patriarch's  room,  and  took  the  chair 
beside  the  other  that  Helena  had  vacated. 
"  Swipe  me,  if  I  wouldn't !  "  he  added  fervently, 
by  way  of  confirmation. 

Helena,  in  her  own  room,  opened  one  of  her 
trunks,  lifted  out  the  tray,  worked  somewhat  im- 
patiently down  through  several  layers  of  yellow, 
paper-covered  literature,  that  would  have  made 
the  classics  on  the  Patriarch's  bookshelves  shrivel 
up  and  draw  their  skirts  hurriedly  around  them  in 
righteous  horror  could  they  but  have  known  or 
been  capable  of  such  intensely  human  character- 
istics, and  finally  produced  a  daintily  jewelled  lit- 
tle cigarette  case  and  match  box.  She  slammed 
the  tray  back,  slammed  the  cover  of  the  trunk 
down,  snatched  up  a  wrap,  flung  it  over  her  head 
and  shoulders  —  and  left  the  cottage. 

She  ran  down  to  the  beach  at  top  speed,  as  if 
she  couldn't  get  there  fast  enough. 

"  And  now  I'm  just  going  to  yell  and  go  crazy 
as  much  as  ever  I  like!"  panted  Helena  to  the 
rollers. 

i  Instead,  she  sat  down  with  her  back  to  a  rock, 
and  opened  her  cigarette  case.  She  took  out  a 
cigarette,  extracted  a  match  from  the  match  box, 
lighted  the  match  —  and  flung  both  cigarette  and 
match  from  her. 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  crazy  —  I  don't  know  what 


A  MIRACLE  OVERDONE         181 

I  want,"  said  Helena  petulantly.  Her  chin  went 
into  her  hands,  and  she  stared  wide-eyed  at  the 
breaking  surf.  "I  wonder  what  it  all  means?" 
she  murmured,  with  a  mirthless  little  laugh. 

Her  thoughts  began  to  run  riot.  What  did  it 
all  mean?  What  was  this  faith?  There  was, 
there  must  be  something  in  it.  There  was  the 
Holmes  boy  —  suppose  it  was  only  some  nervous 
disorder  —  well,  something  had  risen  superior  to 
whatever  it  was  and  had  cured  him.  There  was 
Naida  Thornton  —  true,  she  was  ill  again  —  her 
heart,  Mr.  Thornton  had  said  —  but  she  could 
still  walk,  a  thing  she  had  not  been  able  to  do  for 
a  long  time  until  she  came  to  Needley. 

Helena  laughed  again  —  oh,  it  was  a  good 
game!  The  Doc  had  made  no  mistake  about 
that  —  but  then,  when  it  came  to  planting  any- 
thing the  Doc  rarely  did  make  a  mistake.  Fancy 
fifty  thousand  dollars  in  one  haul!  Fifty  thou- 
sand in  one  haul!  The  bank  had  sent  her  a  pass- 
book with  that  amount  to  her  credit.  And  that 
was  only  the  beginning  —  hardly  anybody  had 
come  yet,  and  already  there  was  several  hundred 
dollars  more  in  real  money  that  she  had  handed 
over  to  Madison  from  the  offering  box. 

Money !  They'd  have  more  money  than  they'd 
know  what  to  do  with  before  they  got  through 
—  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  the  game  — 
all  there  was  to  do  was  to  play  it  to  a  finish.  And 
there  wasn't  the  slightest  risk  about  it  —  every- 
thing was  given  voluntarily.  Oh,  the  game  was 
all  right  —  but  somehow  she  wasn't  happy  —  not 


1 82  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

nearly  so  happy  as  she  had  been  in  New  York, 
even  in  lean  periods  when  she  and  the  Doc  had 
been  pressed  for  money.  But,  anyway,  then  they 
had  been  together,  and  fought,  and  laughed,  and 
loved,  and  quarrelled  through  flush  times  and 
bad. 

Maybe  that  was  it!  The  Doc!  Of  course, 
she  loved  him  —  she  had  loved  him  ever  since 
she  had  known  him.  There  was  no  secret  about 
that  —  she  loved  him  fiercely,  passionately,  more 
than  she  loved  anything  else  in  the  world,  with 
all  the  love  she  was  capable  of  —  more  than  he 
loved  her  —  he  seemed  to  accept  her,  too  often, 
so  casually,  so  indifferently,  so  much  as  a  matter 
of  course.  He  was  so  confidently  and  compla- 
cently sure  of  her  —  and  she  was  not  at  all  sure 
of  him.  She  was  only  sure  that  he  was  quite 
right  in  being  sure  —  she  couldn't  help  loving  him 
if  she  tried. 

She  had  hardly  seen  anything  of  him  since  that 
night  in  the  Roost  before  he  had  left  for  Needley 
—  and  he  hadn't  seemed  to  care  much  whether 
she  did  or  not.  That  talk  about  playing  the  game 
and  taking  no  chances  was  all  bosh  —  there  had 
been  plenty  of  chances  where  it  wouldn't  have  hurt 
the  game  any.  Perhaps  the  little  jolt  she  had 
given  him  last  night,  turning  the  tables  a  little, 
would  wake  him  up  a  bit.  Perhaps,  as  the  Flop- 
per  had  said,  he  would  come  out  to-night,  and  — 

"  Helena  !     Helena  !  " 

Helena  sat  suddenly  upright  —  the  noise  of  the 
surf  muffled  the  sound  of  the  voice,  but  that  was 


A  MIRACLE  OVERDONE          183 

probably  Doc  now  —  she  could  hear  footsteps 
running  from  the  direction  of  the  cottage.  De- 
liberately, Helena  leaned  back  again  against  the 
rock,  took  out  a  cigarette  and  with  no  attempt  to 
shade  the  flame  of  the  match,  rather  to  use  it  as 
a  challenging  beacon,  held  it  to  the  cigarette  — 
but  for  the  second  time  she  flung  both  match  and 
cigarette  hurriedly  away.  It  wasn't  Madison  at 
all  —  it  was  only  the  Flopper. 

"  Say !  "  gasped  the  Flopper,  blowing  hard. 
"  Why  can't  youse  answer  when  yer  called?  Wot 
you  tryin'  ter  do  —  light  a  bonfire  ter  save  yer 
voice  ?  Say,  youse  wanter  get  a  wiggle  on  — 
beat  it  —  quick  1  Dey're  after  you." 

"What?"  cried  Helena  sharply,  jumping  to 
her  feet.  "After  me?  Who?  What  do  you 
mean?  " 

"  I  dunno,"  said  the  Flopper  with  sudden  im- 
perturbability —  and  evidently  quite  pleased  with 
the  agitation  he  had  caused.  "  He  talks  like  his 
mouth  was  full,  an'  he's  got  a  scare  t'rown  inter 
him  so's  his  teeth  have  got  de  jiggles." 

Helena  caught  the  Flopper's  arm  and  shook 
him  angrily. 

"What  are  you  talking  about  —  what  is  it?" 
she  demanded  fiercely. 

"  It's  de  porter  from  de  private  car,"  said  the 
Flopper,  wriggling  away  from  her.  "  He  drove 
out  here.  De  lady's  on  de  toboggan  —  sick. 
She's  askin'  fer  youse  an' — " 

Helena  waited  for  no  more.  She  raced  to  the 
cottage  and  around  to  the  front.  A  wagon  was 


1 84  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

standing  before  the  porch;  the  negro  porter  on  the 
seat. 

"What  is  it,  Sam?"  she  called  anxiously,  as 
she  came  up.  "  Is  Mrs.  Thornton  seriously  ill?  " 

'  Yas  —  yas'um,  miss,"  Sam  answered  excit- 
edly. "  I  done  feel  in  mah  bones  she's  gwine  to 
die.  Miss  Harvey  she  done  tole  me  to  get  a 
team  an'  drive  foh  you-all  like  de  debbil." 

Without  waste  of  words,  Helena  clambered  in 
beside  him. 

"  Then  drive,"  she  said  shortly.  "  Drive  as 
fast  as  you  can." 

At  first,  as  they  drove  along,  Helena  plied  Sam 
with  questions  —  and  then  lapsed  into  silence. 
The  man  did  not  know  very  much  —  only  that 
Mrs.  Thornton  had  been  taken  suddenly  ill,  and 
that  the  nurse  had  sent  him  on  the  errand  that 
had  brought  him  to  the  cottage.  A  turmoil  of 
conflicting  emotions  filled  Helena's  mind,  obtrud- 
ing upon  her  anxiety,  for  she  had  grown  to  care  a 
great  deal  for  Naida  Thornton  —  this  was  a  com- 
plication that  Doc  Madison  must  know  about  — 
Thornton  had  left  that  morning  and  was  already 
far  away  —  the  newspaper  men,  or  some  of  them 
at  least,  were  still  in  the  town  —  and  there  were 
so  many  things  else  —  they  all  came  crowding 
upon  her,  as  she  clung  to  her  seat  in  the  jolting 
wagon.  But  Doc  must  know  —  that  rose  a  para- 
mount consideration.  It  seemed  an  age,  an  eter- 
nity before  they  stopped  finally  at  the  station. 

She  sprang  out  and  turned  to  Sam. 

"  Sam,"  she  directed  hurriedly,  "  you  go  back 


A  MIRACLE  OVERDONE         185. 

to  the  Congress  Hotel  and  get  Mr.  Madison. 
Mr.  Madison  is  a  friend  of  Mr.  Thornton's,  you 
know.  Go  about  it  quietly  —  you  needn't  let  any 
one  know  what  you  came  for.  You  can  tell  Mr. 
Madison  what  the  trouble  is  —  and  tell  him  that 
I  sent  you,  and  that  I  am  here.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

"  Yas'um,  mum,"  said  Sam  impressively. 
"  Just  you  done  leab  all  that  to  me,  missy." 

Across  the  track  on  the  siding,  the  private  car 
was  dimly  lighted,  the  window  curtains  down. 
Helena  crossed  the  track  and  mounted  the  steps. 
As  she  reached  the  platform,  Miss  Harvey,  who 
had  evidently  heard  her  coming,  opened  the  door 
and  drew  her  quietly  inside. 

A  glance  at  the  nurse's  face  brought  a  sudden 
chill  to  Helena's  heart.  Miss  Harvey,  capable, 
controlled,  grave,  smiled  at  her  a  little  sadly. 

"  I  sent  for  you,  Miss  Vail,"  she  said  in  a  low 
tone,  "  because  Mrs.  Thornton  has  been  asking 
for  you  incessantly  ever  since  the  attack  came  on 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  ago." 

"  You  mean,"  said  Helena,  "  that  —  that  there 
is—" 

"  No  hope,"  the  nurse  completed.  "  I  am 
afraid  there  is  none  —  it  is  her  heart.  The  con- 
dition has  been  aggravated  by  her  activity  during 
the  last  few  days  since  she  has  been  able  to  walk 
—  though  I  have  done  everything  within  my  power 
to  keep  her  quiet."  Miss  Harvey  laid  her  hand 
on  Helena's  arm.  '  There  is  one  thing,  Miss  Vail, 
I  feel  that  I  must  say  to  you,  in  justice  both  to 


1 86  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

you  and  to  myself,  before  you  see  her.  Whatever 
my  personal  ideas  may  be  of  what  has  taken  place 
here,  my  professional  duty  as  a  nurse  demanded 
that  I  send  for  a  doctor  at  once,  and  I  want  you 
to  know  that  is  what  I  did,  though  I  have  not  been 
successful  in  getting  one.  There  is  no  doctor 
here,  so  I  telegraphed;  but  the  doctor  at  Barton's 
Mills  is  away." 

'  Yes,"  said  Helena  mechanically. 

"  I  just  wanted  you  to  understand,"  said  Miss 
Harvey.  "  Will  you  come  and  see  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton now?  " 

"  Does  she  know,"  whispered  Helena,  as  efee 
followed  the  nurse  down  the  corridor  of  the  car, 
"  does  she  know  that  —  how  ill  she  is?  " 

1  Yes,"  Miss  Harvey  answered  simply.  She 
stopped  before  a  compartment  door,  opened  it 
softly,  and,  stepping  aside,  motioned  Helena  to 
enter. 

A  little  cry  rose  to  Helena's  lips  that  she  choked 
back  somehow,  and  a  mist  for  a  moment  blinded 
her  eyes  —  then  she  was  kneeling  beside  the  brass 
bed,  and  was  holding  in  both  her  own  the  hand  that 
was  stretched  out  to  her. 

"  Helena  —  dear  —  I  am  so  glad  you  came," 
said  Mrs.  Thornton  faintly.  "I  —  I  am  not  go- 
ing to  get  better,  and  there  are  some  things  I 
want  to  say  to  you." 

"  Oh,  but  you  are,"  returned  Helena  quickly, 
smiling  bravely  now.  "  You  mustn't  say  that." 

Mrs.  Thornton  shook  her  head. 

"  Dear,"  she  said,  "  I  know.     And  I  know  that 


A  MIRACLE  OVERDONE         187 

what  I  have  to  say  I  must  say  quickly."  Her 
voice  seemed  to  grow  suddenly  stronger  with  a 
great  earnestness.  "  Listen,  dear.  This  must 
not  make  any  difference  to  this  wonderful  work 
that  has  just  begun  here.  I  was  cured  of  my 
hip  disease  —  perfectly  cured  —  no  one  can  deny 
that  —  this  is  my  own  fault,  I  have  overdone  it 
—  I  would  not  listen  to  reason  —  to  do  what  I 
have  done  in  the  last  few  days,  when  for  a  year 
and  a  half  I  had  never  moved  a  step,  was  more 
than  my  heart  could  stand.  I  should  have  been 
more  quiet  —  but  I  was  so  glad,  so  happy  —  and 
I  wanted  to  tell  everybody  —  I  wanted  all  the 
world  to  know,  so  that  others  could  find  the  joy 
that  I  had  found." 

She  paused — and  Helena  sought  for  words 
that,  somehow,  would  not  come. 

The  nurse  was  bending  over  the  bed  on  the 
other  side,  and  Mrs.  Thornton  turned  her  head 
toward  Miss  Harvey  now.  She  smiled  gently, 
as  though  to  rob  her  words  of  any  possible  hurt. 

"  Nurse,  I  want  —  to  be  alone  with  Miss  Vail 
for  just  a  moment." 

Miss  Harvey,  doubtful,  hesitated. 

"  Only  for  a  moment,"  pleaded  Mrs.  Thornton. 
'  You  can  stay  just  outside  the  door." 

Reluctantly,  Miss  Harvey  complied,  and  left 
the  room. 

Mrs.  Thornton  pressed  Helena's  hand  tightly. 

"  Listen,  dear  —  this  must  not  make  any  dif- 
ference. It  —  it  is  the  one  thing  that  will  make 
me  happy  now  —  to  know  that.  I  —  I  have  writ- 


i8&  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

ten  a  little  note  to  Robert  about  it,  to  be  given  to 
him.  Oh,  if  I  could  only  have  lived  to  help  — 
I  should  have  tried  so  hard  to  be  worthy  to  have 
a  part  in  it.  Not  like  you,  dear,  with  your  sweet- 
ness and  nobleness,  for  God  seems  to  have  singled 
you  out  for  this  —  but  just  to  have  had  a  little 
part.  How  wonderful  it  would  have  been,  bring- 
ing peace  and  health  and  gladness  where  only  sor- 
row and  misery  was  before,  and  —  and  — " 

Mrs.  Thornton's  eyes  closed,  and  she  lay  for 
a  moment  quiet. 

A  blackness  seemed  to  settle  upon  Helena  — 
and  how  cold  it  was!  She  shivered.  Her  dark 
eyes,  wide,  tearless  now,  stared,  startled,  dazed, 
at  the  white  face  on  the  pillow  crowned  with  its 
mass  of  golden  hair.  Her  sweetness !  Her  no- 
bleness !  Helena's  lips  half  parted  and  her  breath 
came  in  quick,  fierce,  little  gasps  —  it  seemed  as 
though  she  had  been  struck  a  blow  that  she  could 
not  quite  understand  because  somehow  it  had 
numbed  her  senses  —  only  there  was  a  hurt  that 
curiously,  strangely  seemed  to  mock  as  it  stabbed 
with  pain. 

"  There  is  Robert  " —  Mrs.  Thornton  spoke 
again  — "  I  am  sure  he  will  do  as  I  have  asked 
him  to  do  about  this,  but  —  you  can  have  a  great 
deal  of  influence  with  him.  It  —  it  perhaps  may 
seem  a  strange  thing  to  say,  but  I  pray  that  you 
two  may  be  brought  very  close  to  each  other. 
Robert  needs  a  good,  true  woman  so  much  in  his 
life  —  and  I  —  we  —  we  —  my  illness  —  we 
have  never  had  a  home  in  its  truest  sense.  Yes, 


A  MIRACLE  OVERDONE         189 

it  is  strange  for  me  perhaps  to  talk  like  this  —  but 
it  is  in  my  heart.  I  would  like  to  think  of  you 
both  engaged  in  this  wonderful  work  together." 

Again,  through  exhaustion,  Mrs.  Thornton 
stopped  —  and  Helena,  from  gazing  at  the  other's 
pallid  countenance  in  a  sort  of  involuntary,  fright- 
ened fascination,  dropped  her  head  suddenly  upon 
the  bed-spread  and  hid  her  face. 

Mrs.  Thornton's  hand  found  Helena's  head  and 
rested  upon  it. 

"  I  would  like  to  see  Robert  happy,"  she  mur- 
mured, after  a  little  silence.  "  Riches  do  not 
make  happiness  —  they  are  so  sad  and  empty  a 
thing  when  the  heart  is  empty.  I  know  he  would 
be  happy  with  you  —  he  has  spoken  so  much  of 
you  lately  • —  perhaps  —  perhaps  — " 

Mrs.  Thornton's  voice  was  very  faint  —  the 
words  reached  Helena  plainly  enough  as  words, 
but  they  seemed  to  reach  her  consciousness  in  an 
unreal,  unnatural,  blunted  way,  coma-like  —  preg- 
nant of  significance,  yet  with  the  significance  itself 
elusive,  evading  her. 

"  A  good  woman,"  whispered  Mrs.  Thornton, 
"  I  have  tried  to  be  a  good  woman  —  but  —  but 
my  life,  our  wealth,  our  position  has  made  it  so 
artificial.  You  have  never  known  these  things, 
dear  —  and  so  you  are  just  as  God  made  you  — 
a  good  woman,  so  pure,  so  wonderful  in  your 
freshness  and  your  innocence.  Robert's  life  has 
been  so  barren  —  so  barren.  I  would  like  to 
know  that  —  that  it  will  not  always  be  so.  Oh, 
if  it  could  only  be  that  you  and  he  should  carry  on 


1 90  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

this  great,  glad  work  together  —  and  love  should 
come  into  his  life  —  and  yours  —  and  sunshine  — 
promise  me,  dear,  that — " 

The  voice  died  away.  Helena,  with  head  still 
buried,  waited  for  Mrs.  Thornton  to  speak  again. 
It  seemed  she  waited  for  a  great  length  of  time 
—  and  yet  there  was  no  such  thing  as  time.  It 
seemed  as  though  she  were  transported  to  a  place 
of  great  and  intense  blackness  where  it  was  mis- 
erably cold  and  chill,  and  she  stood  alone  and  lost, 
and  strove  to  find  her  way — and  there  was  no 
way  —  only  blackness  everywhere,  immeasurable. 
She  lifted  her  head  suddenly,  desperately,  to  shake 
the  unreality  from  her  —  and  her  eyes  fell  upon 
the  gentle  face,  peaceful,  smiling,  calm,  and  so 
still  —  and  a  startled,  frightened  cry  rang  from 
her  lips. 

There  was  the  quick,  hurried  rush  of  some  one 
coming  into  the  room,  and  the  nurse  brushed  by 
her  and  bent  instantly  over  the  bed  —  after  that, 
quite  soon  after  that  it  seemed,  and  yet  it  might 
have  been  quite  a  little  while,  she  found  herself 
outside  in  the  corridor  and  the  nurse  was  speaking 
to  her. 

"  Sam  is  still  out  there,"  said  Miss  Harvey 
gently.  "  I  told  him  to  keep  the  team.  You  can- 
not help  me,  and  I  want  you  to  go  home,  dear. 
And  will  you  ask  Sam  to  go  for  Mr.  Madison  at 
the  hotel  on  the  way  back  —  I  do  not  know  who 
else  I  can  call  upon  for  advice." 

"  I've  sent  for  him  already,"  said  Helena 
numbly. 


A  MIRACLE  OVERDONE         191 

"Have    you,     dear?"     Miss    Harvey    said. 
"  That  was  very  thoughtful  of  you  —  I'm  sure 
he'll  be  here  presently  then.     And  now,  dear,  it 
is  much  better  that  you  should  go." 

There  were  no  tears  in  Helena's  eyes  as  she 
stepped  down  from  the  car  vestibule  to  the  tracks 
— -  only  a  drawn  misery  in  her  face.  That  was 
Doc  over  there,  pacing  up  and  down  on  the  plat- 
form in  the  darkness  —  wasn't  it  weird  the  way 
his  cigar  glowed  bright  and  then  went  out  and 
then  glowed  bright  again  —  like  a  gigantic  firefly ! 

She  was  across  the  tracks  before  he  saw  her, 
then,  hurrying  forward,  he  helped  her  to  the  plat- 
form. 

"Well?"  he  asked  quickly. 

Helena  did  not  answer. 

Madison  took  the  cigar  from  his  lips,  leaned 
forward,  and  peered  into  Helena's  face  —  then 
drew  back  with  a  low  whistle. 

"Dead?  "he  said. 

Helena  nodded. 

"  Miss  Harvey  wants  to  see  you,"  she  said. 

"  Say,"  said  Madison  slowly,  "  first  crack  out 
of  the  box  this  looks  bad,  don't  it?  If  this  gets 
around  here  without  a  muffler  on  it,  it  might  make 
the  railroad  companies  hang  fire  with  those  cir- 
culars for  excursion  rates  to  Needley  —  what?" 

"I  —  I  think  I  hate  you !  "  Helena  cried  out 
suddenly,  passionately.  "  She's  —  she's  dead  — 
and  that's  all  you  think  about!  " 

Madison  stared  at  Helena  for  a  moment  calmly. 

"  Now,  look  here,  Helena,"   said  he  quietly, 


I92  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

44  don't  get  excited.  Of  course  I'm  sorry  —  I'm 
not  a  brute  and  I've  got  feelings  —  but  I  can't 
afford  to  lose  my  head.  Something's  got  to  be 
done,  and  done  quick.  We  don't  want  this  head- 
lined in  every  paper  in  the  United  States  to-mor- 
row morning  —  Thornton  wouldn't  want  it  either. 
You  say  Miss  Harvey  wants  to  see  me?  Well, 
that'll  help  some  —  she'll  probably  do  as  she's 
told,  and — " 

Madison  paused  abruptly,  gazed  abstractedly  at 
the  private  car  across  the  tracks  on  the  siding,  and 
pulled  at  his  cigar. 

Helena  watched  him  in  silence  —  a  little  bit- 
terly. That  quick,  clever,  cunning  brain  of  his 
was  at  work  again  —  scheming  —  scheming  —  al- 
ways scheming  —  and  Naida  Thornton  was  dead. 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Madison,  speaking  again 
as  abruptly  as  he  had  stopped.  "  It's  simple 
enough.  There's  a  westbound  train  due  in  an 
hour  or  so  —  we'll  couple  the  private  car  onto 
that  and  send  it  right  along  to  Chicago.  What 
the  authorities  don't  know  won't  hurt  them. 
There's  no  reason  for  anybody  except  Thornton 
to  know  what's  happened  till  she  gets  there  —  I'll 
wire  him.  The  main  thing  is  that  the  car  won't 
be  here  in  the  morning,  and  that'll  take  a  little  of 
the  intimate  touch  of  Needley  off.  It  might  well 
have  happened  on  her  way  home  —  journey  too 
much  for  her  —  left  too  soon  —  see?  Thorn- 
ton'll  see  it  in  the  right  light  because  he's  got 
fifty  thousand  dollars  worth  of  faith  in  what's  go- 
ing on  here  —  get  that?  He  won't  want  to  harm 


A  MIRACLE  OVERDONE         193 

the  l  cause.'  There'll  be  some  publicity  of  course, 
we  can't  help  that  —  but  it  won't  hurt  much  — > 
and  Thornton  can  gag  a  whole  lot  of  it  —  he'd 
want  to  anyway  for  his  own  sake.  Now  then,, 
kid,  there's  Sam  over  there  —  you  pile  into  the 
wagon  and  go  home,  while  I  get  busy  —  and  don't 
you  say  a  word  about  this,  even  to  the  Flopper.'* 
And  so  Helena  drove  back  to  the  Patriarch's 
cottage  that  night,  a  little  silent  figure  in  the  bacld 
seat  of  the  wagon  —  and  her  hands  were  locked 
tightly  together  in  her  lap  —  and  to  her,  as  she 
drove  over  the  peaceful,  moonlit  road,  and  under 
the  still,  arched  branches  of  the  trees  in  the  wood 
that  hid  the  starlight,  came  again  and  again  the 
words  of  one  who  had  gone,  who  perhaps 
better  now*-^"  you  are  as  God  made  you." 


1 


—  XVI  — 

A   FLY   IN   THE   OINTMENT 

days  passed.  And  with  the  days, 
morning,  noon  and  night,  they  came  by 
almost  every  train,  the  sick  and  suffer- 
ing, the  lame,  the  paralytics  and  the 
maimed  —  a  steady  influx  by  twos  and  threes  and 
fours  —  from  north  over  the  Canadian  boundary 
line,  from  the  far  west,  and  from  the  southern- 
most tip  of  the  Florida  coast.  No  longer  on  the 
company's  schedule  was  Needley  a  flag  station  — 
it  was  a  regular  stop,  and  its  passenger  traffic  re- 
turns were  benign  and  pleasing  things  in  the  au- 
ditor's office.  And  it  was  an  accustomed  sight 
now,  many  times  a  day  —  what  had  once  been  a 
strange,  rare  spectacle  —  that  slow  procession 
wending  its  way  from  the  station  to  the  town,  some 
carried,  some  limping  upon  crutches,  all  snatching 
at  hope  of  life  and  health  and  happiness  again. 
Needley,  perforce,  had  become  a  vast  boarding 
house,  as  it  were  —  there  were  few  homes  indeed 
that  did  not  harbor  their  quota  of  those  who 
sought  the  "  cure." 

But  there  were  others  too  who  came  —  who 
were  not  sick  —  who  had  not  faith  —  who  came 
to  laugh  and  peer  and  peek.  Pleasure  yachts 
dropped  their  anchors  in  the  cove  around  the  head- 

194 


A  FLY  IN  THE  OINTMENT       195 

land  from  the  Patriarch's  cottage  —  and  their 
dingeys  brought  women  decked  out  de  rigeur  in 
middy  blouses  and  sailor  collars,  and  nattily  at- 
tired gentlemen  whose  only  claim  to  seamanship 
was  the  clothes,  or  rather,  the  costumes  that  they 
wore. 

They  came  laughing,  supercilious,  tolerant,  con- 
temptuous, pitying  the  inanity  of  those  they  held 
less  strongly-minded  than  themselves  who  should 
be  taken  in  by  so  apparent,  glaring  and  monstrous 
a  fake.  They  came  because  it  was  the  rage,  the 
thing  to  do,  quite  the  thing  to  do,  quite  a  necessary 
part  of  the  summer's  itinerary.  But  that  they, 
should  they  have  been  sick,  would  ever  have 
dreamed  of  coming  there  was  too  perfectly  ridic- 
ulous an  idea  for  words.  How  strange  a  thing  is 
the  human  animal ! 

They  came  in  their  rather  cruel,  merciless  gaiety 
—  and  they  left  sobered  and  impressed;  the  ladies 
holding  their  embroidered  parasols  at  a  less  jaunty 
angle ;  the  men  with  lightened  pockets,  their  names 
enrolled  in  the  contribution  book  in  that  quiet, 
simple  room,  whose  door  was  open,  whose  cash- 
box  was  unguarded,  where  none  asked  them  to 
either  enter  or  withdraw.  They  came  and  found 
no  air  of  charlatanism  such  as  they  had  looked 
for  —  only  a  peaceful,  unostentatious,  patient  air 
of  sincerity  that  left  them  remorseful  and  abashed. 
They  came  and  went,  a  source  of  revenue  not 
counted  on  or  thought  of  before  by  Madison;  but 
a  source  that  swelled  the  coffers,  brimming  fuller 
day  by  day,  to  overflowing. 


THE  MIRACLE  MAN 


In  three  weeks  from  the  night  of  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton's death,  which  had  had  at  least  no  visible  ef- 
fect on  Needley,  Needley  was  metamorphosed  — 
with  a  spontaneity,  so  to  speak,  that  astounded 
even  Madison  himself  —  into  something  that  ap- 
proximated very  closely  in  reality  the  word-picture 
he  had  drawn  of  it  that  night  in  the  Roost.  Madi- 
son looked  upon  his  work  and  saw  that  it  was 
pleasing  beyond  his  dreams.  Money  was  pouring 
in  —  no  single  breath  of  suspicion  came  to  dis- 
quiet him.  Even  the  cures  were  working  satis- 
factorily —  even  Pale  Face  Harry,  who  had  be- 
come great  friends  with  the  farmer  at  whose  house 
he  boarded,  and  who  now  spent  most  of  his  time 
in  the  fields,  was  showing  an  improvement  —  Pale 
Face  Harry  coughed  less.  The  Flopper  was  as 
happy  as  a  lark  —  and  Mamie  Rodgers  blushed 
now  at  mention  of  the  name  of  Coogan.  Helena, 
demure,  adored  by  all  who  saw  her,  went  daily 
about  her  housework  in  the  cottage,  and  waited 
upon  the  Patriarch  with  gentle  tenderness;  while 
the  Patriarch,  docile,  full  of  supreme  trust  and 
confidence  in  every  one,  radiant  in  Helena's  com- 
panionship, was  as  putty  in  their  hands.  And  so 
'Madison  looked  upon  his  work  and  saw  no  flaw 
—  but  with  the  days  he  grew  ill  at  ease. 

"  It's  too  easy,"  he  told  himself.  "  I  guess 
that's  it  —  it's  too  easy.  The  whole  show  runs 
itself.  Why,  there's  nothing  to  do  but  count  the 
cash!" 

And  yet  in  his  heart  he  knew  that  wasn't  it  — 
it  was  Helena.  Helena  was  beginning  to  trouble 


A  FLY  IN  THE  OINTMENT       193 

him  a  little.     She  was  playing  the  game  all  right 

—  playing  it  to  the  limit  —  and  making  a  hit  at 
every   performance.     Her   name   was    on   every 
tongue,  and  men  and  women  alike  spoke  of  her 
sweetness,   her  goodness,  her  loveliness.     Well, 
that  was  all  right,  Helena  was  a  star  no  matter 
where  you  put  her  —  but  something  was  the  mat- 
ter.    Helena  wasn't  the  Helena  of  a  month  ago 
back  in  little  old  New  York.     He  hadn't  managed 
to  get  a  dozen  words  with  her  since  that  night  on 
the  station  platform,  without  taking  chances  and 
gaining  admission  to  the  cottage  through  the  Flop- 
per's  window  after  dark- —  and  then  she  had  held 
him  at  arm's  length. 

"  The  matter  with  me  ?  "  she  had  said.  "  There 
isn't  anything  the  matter  with  me  —  is  there  ? 
I'm  —  I'm  playing  the  game." 

It  certainly  couldn't  be  grief  over  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton's death  —  she  had  begun  to  act  that  way  be- 
fore Mrs.  Thornton  died  —  that  night  when  she 
came  home  with  Thornton,  and  he  and  the  Flop- 
per  were  behind  the  trellis.  Thornton !  Had 
Thornton  anything  to  do  with  it,  after  all?  No 

—  Madison  had  laughed  at  it  then,  and  he  had 
much  more  reason  to  laugh  at  it  now.     Thornton 
was   still  in   Chicago,   and  hadn't  been  back  to 
Needley. 

For  three  weeks  this  sort  of  thing  occupied  at 
considerably  larger  share  of  Madison's  thoughts 
than  he  was  wont  to  allow  even  the  most  vexing 
problems  to  disturb  his  usually  imperturbable  and 
complacent  self  —  and  then  one  afternoon,  he? 


198  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

smiled  a  little  grimly,  and,  leaving  the  hotel, 
started  along  the  road  toward  the  Patriarch's  cot- 
tage. 

"  What  Helena  needs  is  —  a  jolt!  "  said  Madi- 
son to  himself.  u  I  guess  her  trouble  is  one  of 
those  everlasting  feminine  kinks  that  all  women 
since  Adam's  wife  have  patted  themselves  on  the 
back  over,  because  they  think  it's  a  dark  veil  of 
mystery  that  is  beyond  the  acumen  of  brute  man 
to  understand.  That's  what  the  novelists  write 
pages  about  —  wade  right  in  up  to  the  armpits  in 
it  —  feminine  psychology  —  great !  And  the 
women  smile  commiseratingly  at  the  novelist  — 
the  idea  of  a  man  even  pretending  to  understand 
them  —  kind  of  a  blooming  merry-go-round  and 
everybody  happy !  Feminine  psychology !  I 
guess  a  little  masculine  kick-up  is  about  the  right 
dope !  What  the  deuce  have  I  been  standing  for 
it  for?  I  don't  have  to  —  I  don't  have  to  go 
around  making  sheep's-eyes  at  her  —  what?  She 
wants  grabbing  up  and  being  rushed  right  off  her 
feet  a  la  Roost,  and  —  hello,  Mr.  Marvin,  how 
are  you  to-day!  " —  he  had  halted  beside  a  middle- 
aged  man  who  was  sitting  on  the  grass  at  the 
roadside. 

"  Better,  Mr.  Madison,  better,"  returned  the 
man,  heartily.  "  Really  very  much  better." 

"  Fine  I  "  said  Madison. 

"  We  all  saw  the  Patriarch  to-day  —  God  bless 
him !  "  said  Marvin.  "  We've  been  waiting  out 
there  two  days,  you  know  —  that  woman  with  the 
bad  back  got  up  off  her  stretcher." 


A  FLY  IN  THE  OINTMENT      199 

"Splendid!"  exclaimed  Madison  enthusiastic- 
ally. "  And  the  glorious  thing  about  it  is  that 
there's  no  reason  why  everybody  can't  be  cured  if 
they'll  only  come  here  in  the  right  spirit." 

"  That's  so !  "  agreed  Marvin.  "  None  are  so 
blind  as  those  who  won't  see  —  they're  in  utter 
blackness  compared  with  the  physical  blindness  of 
that  grand  and  marvelous  man.  I'm  going  home 
myself  in  another  week  —  better  than  ever  I  was 
in  my  life.  It  was  stomach  with  me,  you  know  — 
doctors  said  there  wasn't  any  chance  except  to 
operate,  and  that  an  operation  was  too  slim  a 
chance  to  be  worth  risking  it."  He  got  up  and 
laughed,  carefree,  joyous.  "  God-given  place 
down  here,  isn't  it?  Clean  —  that's  it.  Clean 
air,  clean-souled  people,  clean  everything  you  see 
or  do  or  hear.  Say,  it  kind  of  opens  your  eyes  to 
real  living,  doesn't  it  —  it's  the  luxuries  and  the 
worries  and  the  pace  and  the  damn-fooleries  that 
kill.  Well,  I'm  going  along  back  now  to  get  some 
of  Mrs.  Perkins'  cream  —  clean,  rich  cream  — 
and  home-made  bread  and  butter  —  imagine  me 
with  an  appetite  and  able  to  eat!  " 

He  laughed  again  —  and  Madison  joined  him 
in  the  laugh,  slapping  him  a  cordial  good-by  on 
the  shoulder. 

Madison  started  on  once  more  —  but  now  his 
progress  was  slow,  frequently  interrupted,  for  he 
stopped  a  score  of  times  to  chat  and  exchange  a 
few  words  with  those  whom  he  passed  on  the 
road.  There  were  cheery  faces  everywhere  — 
even  those  of  the  sufferers  who  straggled  out  along 


200  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

the  road  coming  back  from  the  Patriarch's  cottage. 
It  was  a  cheery  afternoon,  warm  and  balmy  and 
bright  —  everything  was  cheery.  The  farmers, 
their  vocations  for  the  moment  changed,  waved 
their  whips  at  him  and  shouted  friendly  pleasant- 
ries as  they  drove  by  with  those  who  were  unable 
to  make  the  trip  from  the  Patriarch's  unaided. 

Madison  began  to  experience  a  strange,  exhila- 
rating sense  of  uplift  upon  him,  a  sort  of  rather 
commendatory  and  gratified  feeling  with  himself. 
Marvin  had  hit  it  pretty  nearly  right  with  his 
"  clean-wholesomeness  "  idea  —  it  kind  of  made 
one  feel  good  to  be  a  part  of  it.  Madison,  for  the 
time  being,  relegated  Helena  and  his  immediate 
mission  to  a  secondary  place  in  his  thoughts. 

Young  girls,  young  men,  middle-aged  men,  el- 
derly women,  all  ages  of  both  sexes  he  passed 
as  he  went  along;  some  alone,  some  in  couples, 
some  in  little  groups,  some  on  crutches,  some  in 
wheel-chairs,  some  walking  without  extraneous  aid 
—  he  had  turned  into  the  woods  now,  and  he  could 
see  them  strewn  out  all  along  the  wagon  track 
under  the  cool,  interlacing  branches  overhead. 

Now  he  stepped  aside  to  let  a  wagon  pass  him, 
and  answered  the  farmer's  call  and  the  smile  of 
the  occupants  in  kind;  now  some  one  stopped  to 
tell  him  again  the  story  of  the  afternoon  —  there 
had  been  cures  that  day  and  the  Patriarch  had 
come  amongst  them.  Some  laughed,  some  sang  a 
little,  softly,  to  themselves  —  all  smiled  —  all 
spoke  in  glad,  hopeful  words,  clean  words  —  there 
seemed  no  base  thought  in  any  mind,  only  that 


A  FLY  IN  THE  OINTMENT      201 

cleanness,  that  wholesomeness  that  had  so  ap- 
pealed to  Marvin  —  that  somehow  Madison 
found  he  was  taking  a  delight  in  responding  to, 
and,  because  it  afforded  him  whimsical  pleasure, 
chose  to  pretend  that  he  was  quite  a  genuine  ex- 
ponent of  it  himself. 

He  reached  the  end  of  the  wagon  track,  and 
paused  involuntarily  on  the  edge  of  the  Patriarch's 
lawn  as  he  came  out  from  the  trees.  Like  low, 
lulling  music  came  the  distant,  mellowed  noise  of 
waters,  the  breaking  surf.  And  the  cottage  was  a 
bower  of  green  now,  clothed  in  ivy  and  vine  — 
upon  the  trellises  the  early  roses  were  budding  — 
fragrance  of  growing  things  blended  with  the  salt, 
invigorating  breeze  from  the  ocean.  And  upon 
the  lawn,  flanked  with  its  sturdy  maples,  all  in 
leaf,  that  toned  the  sunshine  in  soft-falling  shad- 
ows, stood,  or  sat,  or  reclined  on  cots,  the  suppli- 
cants who  still  tarried  though  the  Patriarch  had 
gone.  And  now  one  came  reverently  out  of  the 
cottage  door  from  that  room  that  was  never 
closed ;  now  another  went  in  —  and  still  another. 

Madison  smiled  suddenly,  broadly,  with  im- 
mense satisfaction  and  contentment  —  and  then 
his  eyes  fixed  quite  as  suddenly  on  the  single-seated 
buggy  that  was  coming  toward  him  on  the  drive- 
way across  the  lawn.  That  was  Mamie  Rodgers 
driving  —  and  that  was  Helena  beside  her. 

Madison  recalled  instantly  the  object  of  his 
visit  —  and  instantly  he  whistled  a  rather  surprised 
little  whistle  under  his  breath.  How  alluringly 
Helena's  brown  hair  coiled  in  wavy  wealth  upon 


THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

her  liead;  there  wasn't  any  need  of  rouge  for 
color  >n  the  oval  face;  the  dark  eyes  were  soft  and 
deep  and  glorious;  and  she  sat  there  in  a  little 
white  musiin  frock  as  dainty  as  a  medallion  from 
a  master's  bnish. 

"  Say,"  said  Madison  to  himself,  "  say,  I  never 
quite  got  it  before.  Say,  she's  —  she's  lovely  — 
and  that's  my  Helena.  It's  no  wonder  Thornton 
stared  at  her  that  day  we  touched  him  for  the 
fifty,  and  " —  suddenly  — "  damn  Thornton !  " 

But  the  buggy  was  beside  him  now,  and  he 
lifted  his  hat  as  Mamie  Rodgers  pulled  up  the 
horse. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Miss  Rodgers,"  he  said. 
"  Good  afternoon,  Miss  Vail  —  how  is  the  Patri- 
arch to-day?  " 

"  He  is  very  well,  thank  you,"  Helena  answered 
—  and  being  custodian  of  the  whip  brushed  a  fly 
off  the  horse's  flank. 

"  I  was  just  coming  out  to  pay  you  a  little  visit," 
remarked  Madison,  trying  to  catch  her  eye. 

"  Oh,  I'm  jo  sorry  I  "  said  Helena  sweetly,  still 
busy  with  the  fly.  "  Mamie  Is  going  to  take  me 
for  a  drive  —  and  afterwards  we  are  going  to  her 
house  for  tea." 

"  Oh!  "  said  Madison,  a  little  blankly. 

Helena  smiled  at  him,  nodded,  and  touched 
the  horse  with  the  whip  —  and  then  she  leaned 
suddenly  out  toward  him,  as  the  buggy  started  for- 
ward. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Madison,"  she  called,  "  I  forgot  to 
tell  you !  I  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Thornton  to- 
day —  and  he's  coming  back  to-morrow." 


-  XVII  - 

IN  WHICH   HELENA  TAKES  A  RIDE 

THE  wind  kissed  Helena's  face,  bring- 
ing dainty  color  to  her  cheeks,  tossing 
truant  wisps  of  hair  this  way  and  that, 
as  the  car  swept  onward.     But  she  sat 
strangely  silent  now  beside  Thornton  at  the  steer- 
ing wheel. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  living,  not  her 
own  life,  not  life  as  she  had  known  and  looked 
upon  it  in  the  years  before,  but  living,  as  it  were, 
in  a  strange,  suspended  state  that  was  neither  real 
nor  unreal,  as  in  a  dream  that  led  her,  now  through 
cool,  deep  forests,  beside  clear,  sparkling  streams 
where  all  was  a  great  peace  and  the  soul  was  at 
rest,  serene,  untroubled,  now  into  desolate  places 
where  misery  had  its  birth  and  shame  was,  where 
there  was  fear,  and  the  mind  stood  staggered  and 
appalled  and  lost  and  knew  not  how  to  guide  her 
that  she  might  flee  from  it  all. 

At  moments  most  unexpected,  as  now  when  mo- 
toring with  Thornton  in  the  car  that  he  had 
brought  back  with  him  on  his  return  to  Needley, 
when  laughing  at  the  Flopper's  determined  pur- 
suit of  Mamie  Rodgers,  when  engaged  in  the 
homely,  practical  details  of  housekeeping  about 
the  cottage,  there  came  flashing  suddenly  upon  her 

203 


204  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

the  picture  of  Mrs.  Thornton  lying  on  the  brass 
bed  in  the  car  compartment  that  night,  every  line 
of  the  pale,  gentle  face  as  vivid,  as  actual  as 
though  it  were  once  more  before  her  in  reality,  and 
m  her  ears  rang  again,  stabbing  her  with  their  un- 
meant condemnation,  those  words  of  sweetness, 
love  and  purity  that  held  her  up  to  gaze  upon  her- 
self in  ghastly,  terrifying  mockery. 

It  stupified  her,  bewildered  her,  frightened  her. 
She  seemed,  for  days  and  weeks  now,  to  be  drift- 
ing with  a  current  that,  eddying,  swirling,  swept 
her  this  way  and  that.  How  wonderful  it  was,  this 
life  she  was  now  leading  compared  with  the  old 
life  —  so  full  of  the  better  things,  the  better  emo- 
tions, the  better  thoughts  that  she  had  never  known 
before  !  How  monstrous  in  its  irony  that  she  was 
leading  it  to  steal,  that  she  might  play  her  part  in 
a  criminal  scheme  for  a  criminal  end!  And  yet, 
somehow,  it  did  not  all  seem  shalh,  this  part  she 
played  —  and  that  very  thought,  too,  frightened 
her.  Why  was  it  now  that  Madison's  oft-at- 
tempted, and  as  oft-repulsed,  kiss  upon  her  lips 
was  something  from  which  she  shrank  and  battled 
back,  no  longer  from  a  sense  of  pique  or  to  bring 
him  to  his  knees,  but  because  something  new  within 
her,  intangible,  that  she  did  not  understand,  rose 
up  against  it !  Why  did  she  do  this  —  she,  who 
had  known  the  depths,  who  had  known  no  other 
guide  or  mentor  than  the  turbulent,  passionate  love 
she  had  yielded  him  and  in  her  abandonment  had 
once  found  contentment!  Was  her  love  for  him 
gone?  Or,  if  it  was  not  that  —  what  was  it? 


HELENA  TAKES  A  RIDE         205 

What  was  it?  A  week,  another,  two  more,  a 
month  had  slipped  away  since  Thornton  had  re- 
turned, and  there  had  been  so  much  of  genuineness 
crowded  into  this  sham  part  of  hers  that  it  seemed 
at  times  the  part  itself  was  genuine.  She  had 
come  to  love  that  little  room  of  hers,  love  it  for 
its  dear  simplicity,  the  white  muslin  curtains,  the 
rag  mat,  the  patch-quilt  on  the  bed;  those  daily 
duties  of  a  woman,  that  she  had  never  done  before, 
that  she  had  at  first  looked  at  askance,  brought  now 
a  sense  of  keen,  housewifely  pride;  the  gentle  pa- 
tience of  the  Patriarch,  his  love  for  her,  his  simple 
trust  in  her  had  found  a  quick  and  instant  response 
in  her  own  heart,  and  daily  her  affection  for  him 
had  grown;  and  there  was  Thornton  —  this  man 
beside  her,  whose  companionship  somehow  she 
seemed  to  crave  for,  who,  in  his  grave,  quiet  man- 
liness, seemed  a  sort  of  inspiration  to  her,  who 
seemed  in  a  curious  way  to  appease  a  new  hunger 
that  had  come  to  her  for  association,  for  contact 
with  better  thoughts  and  better  ideals. 

What  was  it?  Environment?  Yes;  there 
must  be  something  in  that.  It  was  having  its  ef- 
fect even  on  Pale  Face  Harry  and  the  Flopper. 
What  was  it  that  Harry,  a  surprisingly  lusty  farm- 
hand now,  had  said  to  her  a  week  or  so  ago: 
"  Say,  Helena,  do  you  ever  feel  that  while  you  was 
trying  to  kid  the  crowd  about  this  living  on  the 
square,  you  was  kind  of  getting  kidded  yourself? 
I  dunno  !  I  ain't  coughed  for  a  month  —  honest. 
But  it  ain't  only  that  Say  —  I  dunno  !  Do  you 
ever  feel  that  way?  " 


206  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Yes;  there  must  be  something  in  environment. 
The  old  life  had  never  brought  her  thoughts  such 
as  these,  thoughts  that  had  been  with  her  now  al- 
most since  the  first  day  she  had  come  to  Needley 
—  this  disquiet,  this  self-questioning,  these  sudden, 
floods  of  condemnatory  confusion;  and,  mingling 
with  them,  a  startled  thrill,  a  strange,  half-glad, 
half-premonitory  awakening,  a  vague  pronounce- 
ment that  innately  it  might  be  true  that  she  was 
not  what  she  really  was  —  but  what  all  those 
around  her  held  her  to  be  —  what  Mrs.  Thornton 
had  said  she  was  —  and  — 

Her  fingers  closed  with  a  quick,  fierce  pressure 
on  the  arm-rest  of  her  seat  —  and  she  shifted  her 
position  with  a  sudden,  involuntary  movement. 

Thornton,  a  road-map  tacked  on  a  piece  of 
board  and  propped  up  at  his  feet,  raised  his  head, 
and,  self-occupied  himself,  had  apparently  not  no- 
ticed her  silence,  for  he  spoke  irrelevantly. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  mind  if  the  road  is  a  bit 
rougher  than  usual  for  a  few  miles,"  he  said;  "  but 
you  know  we  decided  we  didn't  like  the  looks  of 
the  weather  at  tea-time,  and  according  to  the  map, 
which  labels  it '  rough  but  passable,'  this  is  a  short 
cut  that  will  lop  off  about  ten  miles  and  take  us 
back  to  Needley  through  Barton's  Mills." 

"  Of  course,  I  don't  mind,"  Helena  answered. 
"  How  far  are  we  from  Needley?  " 

"  About  thirty-five  miles  or  so,"  Thornton  re- 
plied. "  Say,  an  hour  and  a  half  with  any  kind  of 
going  at  all.  We  ought  to  be  back  by  nine." 

Helena  nodded  brightly  and  leaned  back  in  her 


HELENA  TAKES  A  RIDE         207 

seat.  Rather  than  objecting  to  the  short  cut  that 
Thornton  had  begun  to  negotiate,  the  road,  now 
that  she  gave  her  attention  to  it,  she  found  to  be 
quite  the  prettiest  bit  she  had  seen  in  the  whole 
afternoon's  run,  where,  in  the  rough,  sparsely  set- 
tled north  country,  all  was  both  pretty  and  a  de- 
light —  miles  and  miles  without  the  sign  of  even  a 
farmhouse,  just  the  great  Maine  forests,  so  ma- 
jestic and  grand  in  their  solitude,  bordering  the 
road  that  undulated  with  the  country,  now  to  a  rise 
with  its  magnificent  sweep  of  scenery,  now  to  the 
cool,  fresh  valleys  full  of  the  sweet  pine-scent  of 
the  woods.  They  had  explored  much  of  it  to- 
gether in  the  little  '  run-about,'  nearly  every  daj 
a  short  spin  somewhere;  to-day  a  little  more  am- 
bitious run  —  the  whole  afternoon,  and  tea,  a  pic- 
nic tea,  an  hour  or  more  back,  in  a  charming  glade 
beside  a  little  brook. 

"  Oh,  this  is  perfectly  lovely!  "  she  exclaimed r 
and  then,  with  a  breathless  laugh,  as  a  bump 
lifted  her  out  of  her  seat:  "  It  is  rough  —  isn't 
it?" 

Thornton  laughed  and  slowed  down. 

"  I  don't  fancy  it's  used  much,  except  in  the  win- 
ter for  logging.  But  if  the  map  says  we  can  get 
through,  I  guess  we're  all  right  —  there's  about 
an  eight  mile  stretch  of  it." 

It  was  growing  dusk,  and  the  shadows,  fanciful 
and  picturesque,  were  deepening  around  them. 
Now  it  showed  a  solid  mass  of  green  ahead,  and, 
like  a  sylvan  path,  the  road,  converging  in  the  dis- 
tance, lost  itself  in  a  wall  of  foliage;  now  it 


208  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

swerved  rapidly,  this  way  and  that,  in  short  curves, 
as  though,  like  one  lost,  it  sought  its  way. 

A  half  hour  passed.  Thornton  stopped  the  car, 
got  down  and  lighted  his  lamps,  then  started  on 
again.  The  going  had  seemed  to  be  growing 
steadily  worse  —  the  road,  as  Thornton  had  said, 
was  little  more  indeed  than  a  logging  trail  through 
the  heart  of  the  woods;  and  now,  deeper  in,  with 
increasing  frequency,  the  tires  slipped  and  skidded 
on  damp,  moist  earth  that  at  times  approached 
very  nearly  to  being  oozy  mud. 

Silence  for  a  long  while  had  held  between  them. 
It  was  taking  Thornton  all  his  time  now  to  guide 
the  car,  that,  negotiating  fallen  branches  strewn 
across  the  way,  bad  holes  and  ruts,  was  crawling 
at  a  snail's  pace. 

'  Rough  but  passable  ' !  "  he  laughed  once, 
clambering  back  to  his  seat  after  clearing  away 
a  dead  tree-trunk  from  in  front  of  them.  "  But 
there's  no  use  trying  to  go  back,  as  we  must  be 
halfway  through,  and  it  can't  be  any  worse  ahead 
than  it's  been  behind.  I'd  like  to  tell  the  fellow 
that  made  this  map  something!  " 

And  then  upon  Helena,  just  why  she  could  not 
tell,  began  to  steal  an  uneasiness  that  frightened 
her  a  little.  It  had  grown  suddenly,  intensely 
dark  —  quicker  than  the  slow,  creeping  change  of 
dusk  blending  softly  into  night.  Sort  of  eerie,  it 
seemed  —  and  a  wind  springing  up  and  rustling 
through  the  branches  made  strange  noises  all 
about.  They  seemed  to  be  shut  in  by  a  wall  of 
blackness  on  every  hand,  except  ahead  where,  like 


HELENA  TAKES  A  RIDE         209 

great  streaming  eyes  of  fire,  the  powerful  lamps 
shot  out  their  rays  making  weird  color  effects  in  the 
forest  —  huge  tree-trunks  loomed  a  dead  drab, 
like  mute  sentinels,  grim  and  ominous,  that  barred 
their  way ;  now,  in  the  full  glare,  the  foliage  took 
on  the  softest  fairy  shade  of  green;  now,  tapering 
off,  heavier  in  color,  it  merged  into  impenetrable 
black;  and,  with  the  jouncing  of  the  car,  the  light 
rays  jiggling  up  and  down  gave  an  unnatural 
semblance  as  of  moving,  animate  things  before 
them,  a  myriad  of  them,  ever  retreating,  but  ever 
marshalling  their  forces  again  as  though  threaten- 
ing attack,  as  though  to  oppose  the  car's  advance. 

What  was  there  to  be  afraid  of?  She  tried  to 
laugh  at  herself  —  it  was  perfectly  ridiculous.  A 
little  bit  of  rough  road  —  the  forest  that  she  loved 
around  her  —  even  if  it  was  very  dark.  They 
would  come  out  eventually  somewhere  on  the 
trunk-road  to  Barton's  Mills  —  that  was  all  there 
was  to  it.  Meanwhile,  it  was  quite  an  experience, 
and  she  had  every  confidence  in  Thornton.  She 
glanced  at  him  now.  It  was  too  dark  to  get  more 
than  an  indistinct  outline  of  the  clean-cut  profile, 
but  there  was  something  inspiriting  in  the  alert, 
self-possessed,  competent  poise  of  his  body  as  he 
cro»ched  well  forward  over  the  wheel,  his  eyes 
never  lifting  from  the  road  ahead. 

They  appeared  to  be  going  a  little  faster  now, 
too  —  undoubtedly  the  road  was  getting  better. 
What  was  there  to  be  afraid  of?  It  didn't  make 
it  any  more  pleasant  for  Thornton,  who  was  prob- 
ably reproaching  himself  rather  bitterly  for  having. 


210  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

been  tempted  by  the  "  short  cut,"  to  have  her  sit 
and  mope  beside  him ! 

She  began  to  hum  an  air  softly  to  herself  —  and 
then  laughingly  sang  a  bar  or  two  aloud. 

Thornton  shot  a  quick,  appreciative  glance  at 
her  and  nodded,  joining  in  the  laugh. 

"By  Jove!"  he  said  approvingly.  "That 
sounds  good  to  me.  I  was  afraid  this  beastly 
stretch,  bumping  and  crawling  along  in  the  "dark, 
was  making  you  miserable." 

"  Miserable!  "  exclaimed  Helena.  "  Why,  the 
idea!  What  is  there  to  be  miserable  about? 
We'll  get  through  after  a  while  —  and  the  road's 
better  now  than  it  was  anyhow,  isn't  it?" 

"Better?" 

"  You're  running  faster." 

"Oh  —  er  —  yes,  of  course,"  said  Thornton 
-quickly.  "  I  wasn't  thinking  of  what  I  said. 
I—" 

He  stopped  suddenly,  as  Helena  lifted  her  hand 
to  her  face. 

"  Why,  it's  beginning  to  rain,"  she  said. 

'Yes;  I'm  afraid  so,"  he  admitted.  "I  was 
hoping  we  would  get  out  of  here  before  it  came." 

"Oh!"  said  Helena. 

"  And  the  worst  of  it  is,"  he  added  hurriedly, 
"  there's  no  top  to  the  car,  and  you've  no  wraps." 

"  Perhaps  it  won't  be  anything  more  than  a 
shower,"  said  Helena  hopefully. 

u  Perhaps  not,"  he  agreed.  "  Anyway  " —  he 
stopped  the  car,  and  took  oft  his  coat  — "  put  this 
on." 


HELENA  TAKES  A  RIDE         211 

"No —  please,"  protested  Helena.  "You'll 
need  it  yourself." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Thornton  cheerily.  "  And 
that  light  dress  of  yours  would  be  soaked  through 
in  no  time." 

He  held  the  coat  for  her,  and  she  slipped  it  on 
—  and  his  hand  around  her  shoulder  and  neck,  as 
he  turned  the  collar  up  and  buttoned  it  gently 
about  her,  seemed  to  linger  as  it  touched  her 
throat,  and  yet  linger  with  the  most  curious  diffi- 
dence —  a  sort  of  reverence.  Helena  suddenly 
wanted  to  laugh  —  and,  quick  in  her  intuition,  as 
suddenly  wanted  to  cry.  It  wasn't  much  —  only 
a  little  touch.  It  didn't  mean  love,  or  passion,  or 
feeling  —  only  that,  unconsciously  in  his  respect, 
he  held  her  up  to  gaze  upon  herself  again  in  that 
mocking  mirror  where  all  was  sham. 

They  started  on  —  Thornton  silent  once  more, 
busy  with  the  car;  Helena,  her  mind  in  riot,  with 
no  wish  for  words. 

The  rain  came  steadily  in  a  drizzle.  She  could 
feel  her  dress  growing  damp  around  her  knees  — 
and  she  shivered  a  little.  How  strangely  wonder- 
ful the  rain-beads  looked  on  their  background  of 
green  leaves  where  the  lamps  played  upon  them  — 
they  seemed  to  catch  and  hold  and  reflect  back  the 
light  in  a  quick,  passing  procession  of  clear,  spark- 
ling crystals.  But  it  was  raining  more  heavily 
now,  wasn't  it?  The  drops  were  no  longer  cling- 
ing to  the  leaves,  they  were  spattering  dull  and 
lustrelessly  to  the  ground.  And  Thornton  seemed 
suddenly  to  be  in  trouble  —  he  was  bending  down 


212  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

working  at  something.  How  jerkily  the  car  was 
moving !  And  now  it  stopped. 

Thornton  swung  out  of  his  seat  to  the  ground. 

"It's  all  right!"  he  called  out  reassuringly. 
"  I'll  have  it  fixed  in  a  minute." 

It  was  muddy  enough  now,  and  the  ruts,  hold- 
ing the  rain,  were  regular  wheel-traps.  Apart 
from  any  other  trouble,  Thornton  did  not  like  the 
prospect  —  and,  away  from  Helena  now,  his  face 
was  serious.  He  cranked  the  engine  —  no  result. 
He  tried  it  again  with  equal  futility  —  then,  going 
to  the  tool-box,  he  took  out  his  electric  flashlight, 
and,  lifting  the  engine  hood,  began  to  peer  into  the 
machinery.  Everything  seemed  all  right.  He 
tried  the  crank  again  —  the  engine,  like  some  cold, 
dead  thing,  refused  to  respond. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  Helena  asked  him  from 
the  car. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Thornton  answered  lightly. 
"  I  haven't  found  out  yet  —  but  don't  you  worry, 
it's  nothing  serious.  I'll  have  it  in  a  jiffy." 

Helena's  knowledge  of  motor  cars  and  engine 
trouble  was  not  extensive  —  she  was  conversant 
only  with  the  "  fool's  mate  "  of  motoring. 

"  Maybe  there's  no  gasoline,"  she  suggested 
helpfully. 

"  Nonsense !  "  returned  Thornton,  with  a  laugh. 
"  I  told  Babson  to  see  that  the  tank  was  full  before 
he  brought  the  car  around — he  wouldn't  forget 
a  thing  like  that." 

Thornton,  nevertheless,  tested  the  gasoline 
tank. 


HELENA  TAKES  A  RIDE         213 

"  Well?  "  inquired  Helena,  breaking  the  silence 
that  followed. 

"  There  is  no  —  gasoline,"  said  Thornton  heav- 
ily. 

Neither  spoke  for  a  moment.  There  was  no 
sound  but  the  steady  drip  from  the  leaves.  Then 
Helena  forced  a  laugh. 

"  Isn't  it  ridiculous !  "  she  said.  "  That  is  what 
one  Is  always  making  fun  of  others  for.  I  —  I 
don't  think  it's  going  to  stop  raining  —  do  you? 
And  we're  miles  and  miles  from  anywhere.  What 
do  people  do  when  they're  caught  like  this  ?  " 

Thornton  did  not  answer  at  once.  Bitterly  re- 
proachful with  himself,  he  stood  there  coatless  in 
the  rain.  If  it  had  been  a  breakdown,  an  accident 
that  was  unavoidable,  a  little  of  the  sting  might 
have  gone  out  of  the  situation  —  but  gasoline! 
This  —  from  rank,  blatant,  glaring,  inexcusable 
idiocy.  Not  on  his  part  perhaps  —  but  that  did 
not  lessen  his  responsibility.  They  were  miles,  as 
she  had  said,  from  anywhere  —  four  miles  at  least 
in  either  direction  from  the  main  road,  and  as 
many  more  probably  after  that  from  any  farm- 
house —  he  remembered  that  for  half  an  hour 
before  they  had  turned  into  the  "  short  cut " 
they  had  seen  no  sign  of  habitation  —  and 
what  lay  in  the  other  direction,  ahead,  would 
in  all  probability  be  the  same  —  they  were  up  in 
the  timber  regions,  in  the  heart  of  them  — 
she  couldn't  walk  miles  in  the  rain  with  the  roads 
in  a  vile  condition,  and  growing  viler  every 
minute  as  the  rain  sank  in  and  the  mud  grew 


214  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

deeper.  And  then  another  thought  —  a  thought 
that  came  now,  sharp  and  quick,  engulfing  the  mere 
discomfort  of  a  miserable  night  spent  there  in  the 
woods  —  the  clatter  of  busy,  gossiping  tongues 
seemed  already  to  be  dinning  their  abominable 
noises  in  his  ears.  And  that  he,  that  he  —  yes, 
it  seemed  to  sweep  upon  him  in  a  sudden,  over- 
mastering surge,  the  realization  that  the  delight 
and  joy  of  her  companionship  through  the  month 
that  was  gone  was  love  that  leaped  now  into  fierce, 
jealous  flame,  maddened  at  a  breath  that  would 
smirch  her  in  the  eyes  of  others  —  that  he  should 
be  the  cause  of  it!  "What  do  people  do  when 
they're  caught  like  this?" — in  their  innocence 
there  seemed  an  unfathomed  depth  of  irony  in  her 
words,  but  as  he  unconsciously  repeated  them  they 
cleared  his  brain  and  brought  him  suddenly  to  face 
the  immediate  practical  problem  that  confronted 
them.  What  was  to  be  done? 

"  Shall  —  shall  I  get  out?  "  she  called  to  him, 
a  hint  of  reminder  in  her  tones  that  she  had  spoken 
to  him  before  and  received  no  answer. 

Thornton  moved  back  to  the  side  of  the  car. 

"  Miss  Vail,"  he  said  contritely,  "I  —  I  don't 
know  what  to  say  to  you  for  getting  you  into  this. 
I—" 

"  I  know,"  she  interrupted  quickly,  leaning  over 
the  side  of  the  car  and  placing  her  hand  on  his 
arm.  "  Don't  try  to  say  anything.  It's  not  your 
fault  —  it's  not  either  of  our  faults.  Now  tell  me 
what  you  think  the  best  thing  is  to  do,  and,  you'll 


HELENA  TAKES  A  RIDE 

see,  I'll  make  the  best  of  it  —  there's  no  use  being 
miserable  about  it." 

'You're  a  game  little  woman!"  he  said  ear- 
nestly, quite  unnecessarily  clasping  the  hand  on  his 
arm  and  wringing  it  to  endorse  his  verdict.  "  And 
that  makes  it  a  lot  easier,  you  know.  Well  then, 
we  might  as  well  face  the  whole  truth  at  one  fell 
swoop.  We're  up  against  it " —  he  laughed 
cheerfully  — "  hard.  It's  miles  to  anywhere  — 
we  don't  know  where  '  anywhere  '  is  —  and  of 
course  you  can't  walk  aimlessly  around  in  the  mud 
and  rain." 

"  N  —  no,"  she  said  thoughtfully.  **  I  suppose 
there's  no  sense  in  that." 

"  And  of  course  you  can't  sit  out  here  in  the  wet 
all  night." 

44  That  sounds  comforting  —  propitious  even," 
commented  Helena. 

"Quite!"  agreed  Thornton,  laughing  again. 
"  Well,  you  wait  here  a  moment,  and  I'll  see  if  I 
can't  knock  up  some  sort  of  shelter  —  I  used  to  be 
pretty  good  at  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  And  I'll  help,"  announced  Helena,  preparing 
to  get  out. 

"  By  keeping  at  least  your  feet  dry,"  he 
amended.  "  No  —  please.  Just  stay  where  you 
are,  Miss  Vail.  You'll  get  as  much  protection 
here  from  the  branches  overhead  as  you  will  any- 
where meanwhile,  and  you'll  be  more  comfort- 
able." 

She  watched  him  as  he  disappeared  into  the 


216  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

wood,  and  after  that,  like  a  flitting  will-o'-the-wisp, 
watched  his  flashlight  moving  about  amongst  the 
trees.  Then  presently  the  cheery  blaze  of  a  fire 
from  where  he  was  at  work  sprang  up,  and  she 
heard  the  crackle  of  resinous  pine  knots  —  then  a 
great  crashing  about,  the  snapping  of  branches  as 
he  broke  them  from  larger  limbs  —  and  a  rapid 
fire  of  small  talk  from  him  as  he  worked. 

Helena  answered  him  more  or  less  mechanically 

—  her  mind,  roving  from  one  consideration  of 
their  plight  to  another,  had  caught  at  a  certain 
viewpoint  and  was  groping  with  it.     They  were 
stalled  more  effectively  than  any  accident  to  the 
car  could  have  stalled  them  —  they  were  there  for 
the  night,  there  seemed  no  escape  from  that.     But 
there  was  nothing  to  be  afraid  of.     She  had  no 
fears  about  passing  the  night  alone  with  him  here 
in  the  woods  —  why  should  she?     Why  should 
she!     She  laughed  low,  suddenly,  bitterly.     Why 
should  she  —  even  if  he  were  other  than  the  man 
he  was,  even  if  he  were  of  the  lowest  type !     Fear 

—  of  that!     A  yearning,  so  intense  as  for  an  in- 
stant  to    leave   her   weak,    swept   upon   her  —  a 
yearning  full  of  pain,  of  shame,  of  remorse,  of 
hopelessness  —  oh,  God,  if  only  she  might  have 
had  the  right  to  fear!     Then  passion  seized  her 
in  wild,  turbulent  unrestraint  —  hatred  for  this 
clean-limbed,  pure-minded  man,  who  flaunted  all 
that  his  life  stood  for  in  her  face  —  hatred  for 
everybody  in  this  life  of  hers,  for  all  were  good 
save   her  —  hatred,   miserable,   unbridled  hatred 
for  herself. 


HELENA  TAKES  A  RIDE         217 

And  then  it  passed,  the  mood  —  and  she  tried 
to  think  more  calmly,  still  answering  him  as  he 
called  from  the  woods.  She  had  seen  a  great  deal 
of  Thornton  lately  —  a  great  deal.  He  had  been 
kind  and  thoughtful  and  considerate  —  nothing 
more.  More!  What  more  could  there  have 
been?  Love!  There  was  something  of  mock- 
ery in  that,  wasn't  there  ?  Everything  she  thought 
about  lately,  every  way  her  mind  turned  seemed 
to  hold  something  of  mockery  now.  Of  course, 
Mrs.  Thornton's  words  expressing  the  wish  that 
she  and  Thornton  might  come  together  had  been 
often  enough  with  her  —  mockingly  again !  —  but 
Thornton  could  have  known  nothing  of  that  —  so, 
after  all,  what  did  that  matter?  She  had  snatched 
at  every  opportunity  to  motor  with  Thornton  de- 
spite Doc's  protests,  protests  that  had  grown  sul- 
len and  angry  of  late  —  snatched  at  the  opportu- 
nities eagerly,  as  she  would  snatch  at  a  breath  of 
air  where  all  else  stifled  her  —  snatched  at  them 
because  they  took  her  out  of  herself  temporarily, 
away  from  everything,  where  everything  at  times 
seemed  to  be  driving  her  mad  Hate  Thornton ! 
No,  of  course,  she  didn't  hate  him  —  she  had 
thought  that  a  moment  ago  because  —  because  her 
brain  was  —  was  —  oh,  she  didn't  know  —  so 
tired  and  weary,  and  she  was  cold  now  and  quite 
wet.  She  didn't  hate  him,  she  even  — 

"  All  ready  now  —  house  to  let  furnished  " — 
he  was  calling  out,  laughing  as  he  came  thrashing 
through  the  undergrowth  — "  excellent  situation, 
high  altitude,  luxuriant  pine  grove  surrounds  the 


218  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

property,  and  —  and  " —  he  had  halted  beside  the 
car  and  opened  the  door — "what  else  do  they 
say?" 

Helena  caught  his  spirit  —  or,  rather,  forced 
herself  to  do  so.  It  wasn't  quite  fair  that  one  of 
them  should  do  all  the  pretending. 

"  Flies,"  she  laughed.  "  They  always  speak  of 
flies  in  Maine." 

"  None !  "  said  Thornton  promptly.  "  There 
hasn't  been  one  since  the  house  was  built.  Now 
then,  Miss  Vail  " —  he  held  out  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  but  really,  I  can  walk." 

"  And  I  can  carry  you,"  he  said  —  and,  from 
the  step,  gathered  her  into  his  arms. 

And  then,  as  she  lay  there  passively  at  first,  she 
seemed  to  sense  again  that  curious  diffidence,  that 
gentleness,  like  the  touch  upon  her  throat  of  a 
little  while  ago,  though  now  he  held  her  in  both 
his  arms.  How  strong  he  was  —  and,  oh,  how 
miserably  wet  —  her  hand  around  his  shoulder 
felt  the  thin  shirt  clinging  soggily  to  his  arm.  Yes ; 
she  was  glad  he  hadn't  let  her  walk  —  it  wasn't 
far,  but  she  would  have  had  to  force  her  way  con- 
tinually through  bushes  that  scattered  showers 
from  their  dripping  leaves,  and  underfoot  she 
could  hear  his  boots  squash  through  the  mud. 
And  then  suddenly  it  happened  —  the  trees,  just  a 
yard  or  so  from  the  fire,  were  thick  together, 
tangled  —  she  bent  her  head  quickly,  instinctively, 
to  avoid  a  low-hanging  branch  as  he  for  the  same 
reason  swerved  a  little  —  and  their  cheeks  lay 
close-pressed  against  each  other's,  her  hair  sweep- 


HELENA  TAKES  A  RIDE         219 

ing  his  forehead,  their  lips  mingling  one  another's 
breaths.  He  seemed  to  stumble  —  then  his  arms 
closed  about  her  in  a  quick,  fierce  pressure,  clasp- 
ing her,  straining  her  to  him  —  relaxed  as  sud- 
denly —  and  then  he  had  set  her  down  inside  the 
shelter  he  had  built. 

Quick  her  breath  was  coming  now,  and  across 
the  fire  for  a  moment  she  met  his  eyes.  His  face 
was  gray,  and  his  hands  at  his  sides  were  clenched. 

"  I'll  —  I'll  get  the  seat  out  of  the  car,"  he  said 
hoarsely.  "  It  will  help  to  make  things  more 
comfortable."  And  turning  abruptly,  he  started 
back  for  the  road  again. 

Helena  did  not  move.  Mechanically  her  eyes 
took  in  the  little  hut,  crude,  but  rainproof  at  least 
—  branches  heaped  across  two  forked  limbs  for  a 
roof;  the  trunk  of  a  big  tree  for  the  rear  wall; 
branches  thrust  upright  into  the  ground  for  the 
sides  —  the  whole  a  little  triangular  shaped  af- 
fair. The  fire  blazed  in  front  just  within  shelter 
at  the  entrance ;  and  beside  it  was  piled  quite  a  lit- 
tle heap  of  fuel  that  he  had  gathered. 

He  came  back  bringing  the  leather  upholstered 
seat,  shook  the  rain  from  it,  and  dried  it  with  the 
help  of  the  fire  and  his  handkerchief  —  then  set 
it  down  inside  the  hut.  His  face  was  turned  from 
'her;  and  as  he  spoke,  breaking  an  awkward  si- 
lence, his  voice  was  conscious,  hurried. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  be  gone  a  minute  more  than 
I  can  help,  Miss  Vail.  It's  mighty  rough  accom- 
modation for  you,  but  there's  one  consolation  at 
least  —  you'll  be  perfectly  safe." 


220  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Helena  seated  herself,  and  held  her  skirt  to  the 
fire. 

"  Gone !  "  she  said,  a  little  dully.  "  Where  are 
you  going  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  get  help  of  course,"  he  told  her. 

"  Help !  "—  she  shook  her  head.  "  You  don't 
know  where  to  find  any  —  you  only  know  for  a 
certainty  that  there  isn't  any  within  miles." 

"  I  know  there's  a  house  back  on  the  main 
road,"  he  said.  "  I  noticed  it  as  we  came  along." 

'  That's  seven  or  eight  miles  from  here,"  she 
returned.  "  And  it's  raining  harder  than  ever  — 
mud  up  to  your  ankles  —  it  would  take  you  hours 
to  reach  it." 

"  Possibly  two,  or  two  and  a  half,"  he  said 
lightly. 

"  Yes ;  and  another  two  at  least  to  get  back.  I 
won't  hear  of  you  doing  any  such  thing  —  you  are 
wet  through  now.  It's  far  better  to  wait  for  day- 
light and  then  probably  the  storm  will  be  over." 

"  But  don't  you  see,  Miss  Vail  " —  his  voice  was 
suddenly  grave,  masterful  — "  don't  you  see  that 
there  is  no  other  thing  to  do?  " 

"  No,"  said  Helena.  "  I  don't  see  anything  of 
the  kind.  I  won't  have  you  do  anything  like  that 
for  me  —  it's  not  to  be  thought  of." 

Thornton  stooped,  placed  a  knot  upon  the  fire, 
straightened  up  —  and  faced  her. 

"  It's  awfully  good  of  you  to  think  of  me,"  he 
said  in  a  low  tone;  "  but,  really,  it  won't  be  half 
as  bad  as  you  are  picturing  it  in  your  mind.  And 
really  " —  he  hesitated,  fumbling  for  his  words  — 


HELENA  TAKES  A  RIDE         221 

"  you  see  —  that  is  —  what  other  people  might 
say  —  your  —  reputation  — " 

With  a  sudden  cry,  white-faced,  Helena  was  on 
her  feet,  staring  at  him,  her  hands  clutched  at  her 
bosom  —  a  wild,  demoniacal,  mocking  orgy  in  her 
soul.  Her  reputation !  It  seemed  she  wanted  to 
scream  out  the  words  —  her  reputation! 

Thornton's  face  flushed  with  a  quick-sweeping 
flood  of  crimson. 

"  I'm  a  brute  —  a  brute  with  a  blundering 
tongue !  "  he  cried  miserably.  "  You  had  not 
thought  of  that  —  and  I  made  you.  I  could  have 
found  another  excuse  for  going  if  I  had  only  had 
wit  enough.  I  was  a  brute  once  before  to-night, 
and — "  He  stopped,  and  for  a  moment  stood 
there  looking  at  her,  stood  in  the  firelight,  his  face 
white  again  even  in  the  ruddy  glow  —  and  then 
he  was  gone. 

Time  passed  without  meaning  to  Helena.  The 
steady  patter  of  the  rain  was  on  the  leaves,  the 
sullen,  constant  drip  of  water  to  the  ground,  and 
now,  occasionally,  a  rush  of  wind,  a  heavier  down- 
pour. She  sat  before  the  fire,  staring  into  it,  her 
elbows  on  her  knees,  her  face  held  tightly  in  her 
hands,  the  brown  hair,  wet  and  wayward  now, 
about  her  temples.  Once  she  moved,  once  her 
eyes  changed  their  direction  —  to  fix  upon  her 
sleeve  in  a  strange,  questioning  surprise. 

"  I  let  him  go  without  his  coat,"  she  saido 


—  XVIII  — 

THE    BOOMERANG 

IT  was  early  afternoon,  as  Madison,  emerging 
from  the  wagon  track,  and  walking  slowly, 
started  across  the  lawn  toward  the  Patri- 
arch's cottage.     He  was  in  a  mood  that  he 
made  no  attempt  to  define  —  except  that  it  wasn't 
a  very  pleasant  mood.     Before  Thornton  had  re- 
turned to  Needley  it  had  been  bad  enough,  after 
that,  with  his  infernal  car,  it  had  been  —  hell. 

Madison's  fists  clenched,  and  his  gray  eyes 
glinted  angrily.  His  hands  had  been  tied  like  a 
baby's  —  like  a  damned  infant's!  Helena  was 
getting  away  from  him  further  every  day,  and  he 
couldn't  stop  it  —  without  stopping  the  game! 
He  couldn't  tell  Thornton  that  Helena  belonged 
to  him  —  had  belonged  to  him !  He  couldn't 
even  evidence  an  interest  in  what  was  going 
on.  He  had  to  put  oh  a  front,  a  suave,  cor- 
dial, dignified  front  before  Thornton  —  while  he 
itched  to  smash  the  other's  face  to  pulp !  Hell  — > 
that's  what  it  was  —  pure,  unadulterated  hell! 
He  couldn't  get  near  Helena  alone  with  a  ten-foot 
pole,  morning,  noon  or  night  —  she  had  taken 
good  care  of  that.  And  he  wanted  Helena  —  he 
wanted  her!  It  was  an  obsession  with  him  now 
5 —  at  times  driving  him  half  crazy  —  and  it  didn't 

222 


THE  BOOMERANG  223 

help  any  that  he  saw  her  grow  more  glorious, 
more  beautiful  every  day!  Of  course  she  knew 
she  had  him  —  had  him  where  she  knew  he 
couldn't  do  a  thing  —  where  she  could  laugh  at 
him  —  go  the  limit  with  Thornton  if  she  liked. 
But,  curse  it,  it  wasn't  only  Thornton  —  that  was 
what  he  could  not  understand  —  she  had  begun  to 
keep  away  from  him  before  ever  Thornton  had 
come  back. 

Madison  was  near  the  porch  now,  and,  raising 
his  eyes,  noted  a  supplicant  going  into  the  shrine- 
room  —  a  woman,  richly  dressed  but  in  widow's 
weeds,  who  walked  feebly.  The  game  went  on 
by  itself,  once  started  —  there  were  half  a  hundred 
more  about  the  lawn!  Like  a  snowball  rolling 
down  hill,  as  he  had  put  it  at  the  Roost.  The 
Roost!  If  he  only  had  Helena  back  there  for 
about  a  minute  there'd  be  an  end  of  this !  She'd 
go  a  little  too  far  one  of  these  days  —  a  little  too 
far  —  it  was  pretty  near  far  enough  now  —  and 
then  there'd  be  a  showdown,  game  or  no  game, 
and  somebody  would  get  hurt  in  the  smash,  and  — 

He  lifted  his  eyes  again,  as  some  one  came 
hurrying  through  the  cottage  door.  It  was  the 
Flopper.  And  then  to  his  surprise,  he  found 
himself  being  pushed  unceremoniously  from  the 
porch  and  pulled  excitedly  behind  the  trellis. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you !  "  he  demanded 
angrily.  "Are  you  crazy!" 

"  T'ank  de  Lord  youse  have  showed  up!" 
gasped  the  Flopper.  "  Say,  honest,  I  can't  do 
nothin'  wid  him  —  he's  got  me  near  bughouse.'* 


224  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  Who?  " —  Madison  scowled  irritably. 

"  De  Patriarch,  of  course.  He's  noivous,  an* 
gettin'  worse  all  de  time.  He  won't  eat  an'  he 
won't  keep  still.  He  wants  Helena,  an'  he  keeps 
writin'  her  name  on  de  slate  —  he's  got  me  go- 
ing fer  fair." 

"  Well,  I'm  not  Helena !  "  growled  Madison. 
"  Why  doesn't  she  go  to  him?  " 

"Now  wouldn't  dat  sting  youse!"  ejaculated 
the  Flopper.  "  How's  she  goin'  to  him  when 
she  ain't  here?  " 

"  Not  here?"  repeated  Madison  sharply. 
"Where  is  she?" 

The  Flopper  looked  down  his  nose. 

"  I  dunno,"  said  he. 

Madison  stared  at  him  for  a  moment  —  then 
he  reached  out  and  caught  the  Flopper's  arm  in  a 
sudden  and  far  from  gentle  grip. 

"  Out  with  it!  "  he  snapped. 

"  I  dunno  where  she  is,"  said  the  Flopper,  with 
some  reluctance.  "  She  ain't  back  yet,  dat's 
all." 

"  Back  from  where?  " —  Madison's  grip  tight- 
ened. 

The  Flopper  blinked. 

"  Aw,  wot's  de  use !  "  he  blurted  out,  as  though 
his  mind,  suddenly  made  up,  brought  him  un- 
bounded relief.  '  Youse'll  find  it  out  anyhow. 
Say,  she  went  off  wid  Thornton  in  de  buzz-wagon 
yesterday,  an'  I  put  de  Patriarch  to  bed  last  night 
'cause  she  wasn't  back,  an'  dat's  wot's  de  matter 
wid  him,  she  ain't  showed  up  since  an'  he's  near 


THE  BOOMERANG  225 

off  his  chump,  an' —  fer  God's  sake  let  go  my  arm, 
Doc,  youse're  breakin'  it!  " 

A  sort  of  cold  frenzy  seemed  to  seize  Madi- 
son. He  was  perfectly  calm,  he  felt  himself 
perfectly  calm  and  composed.  Off  all  night  with 
Thornton  —  eh  ?  Funny,  wasn't  it  ?  She'd  gone 
pretty  far  a',  last  —  gone  the  limit. 

"  Why  didn't  you  send  me  word  this  morn- 
ing? " —  was  that  his  own  voice  speaking?  Well, 
he  wouldn't  have  recognized  it  —  but  he  was 
perfectly  calm  nevertheless. 

"  Fer  God's  sake  let  go  my  arm,"  whimpered 
the  Flopper.  "I  —  I  ain't  no  squealer,  dat's 
why." 

Madison's  arm  fell  away  —  to  his  side.  He 
felt  a  whiteness  creeping  to  his  face  and  lips,  felt 
his  lips  twitch,  felt  the  fingers  of  his  hands  curl 
in  and  the  nails  begin  to  press  into  the  palms. 

"  Mabbe,"  suggested  the  Flopper  timidly, 
"  mabbe  dere  was  an  accident." 

Madison  made  no  answer. 

The  Flopper  shifted  from  foot  to  foot  and 
licked  his  lips,  stealing  frightened  glances  at  Mad- 
ison's face. 

"Wot-— wot'll  I  do  wid  de  Patriarch?"  he 
stammered  out  miserably. 

And  then  Madison  smiled  at  him  —  not  hap- 
pily, but  eloquently. 

"  Swipe  me !  "  mumbled  the  Flopper,  as  he 
backed  out  from  the  trellis.  "  Dis  love  game's 
fierce  —  an'  mabbe  /  don't  know!  'Sposin' 
she'd  been  Mamie  an'  me  the  Doc — 'sposin'  it 


226  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

had!  "  He  gulped  hastily.  "  Swipe  me!  "  said 
the  Fiopper  with  emotion. 

Madison,  motionless,  watched  the  Fiopper 
disappear.  He  wasn't  quite  so  calm  now,  not  so 
cool  and  collected  and  composed.  He  must  go 
somewhere  and  think  this  out  —  somewhere 
where  it  would  be  quiet  and  he  wouldn't  be  dis- 
turbed. 

A  step  sounded  on  the  path  —  Madison  looked 
through  the  trellis.  A  man,  with  yellow,  un- 
healthy skin  and  sunken  cheeks,  his  head  bowed, 
was  passing  in  through  the  porch.  It  caught 
Madison  with  fierce,  exquisite  irony.  Why  not 
go  there  himself  if  he  wanted  quiet  —  the  shrine- 
room —  the  place  of  meditation!  Well,  he 
wanted  to  meditate!  He  laughed  jarringly. 
The  shrine-room  —  for  him !  Great !  Immense  ! 
Magnificent!  Why  not?  That's  what  he  had 
created  it  for,  wasn't  it  —  to  meditate  in ! 

He  stepped  inside.  The  woman,  whom  he  had 
seen  enter  a  short  while  before,  was  sitting  in  a 
sort  of  rigid,  strained  attitude  in  the  far  corner; 
the  man,  who  had  just  preceded  him,  had  taken 
the  chair  by  the  fireplace  —  they  were  the  only 
occupants  of  the  room.  There  was  no  sound 
save  his  own  footsteps  —  neither  of  the  others 
looked  at  him.  There  was  quiet,  a  profound 
stillness  —  and  the  softened  light  from  the  shut- 
tered window  fell  mellow  all  about,  fell  like  a 
benediction  upon  the  simplicity  of  the  few  plain 
articles  that  the  room  contained  —  the  round  rag 
mats  upon  the  white-scrubbed  floor;  the  hickory 


THE  BOOMERANG  227 

chairs,   severe,   uncushioned;  the  table,   with  its 
little  japanned  box  and  book. 

Madison's  eyes  fixed  upon  the  japanned  box, 
as  he  leaned  now,  arms  folded,  against  the  wall 

—  a  jewel,   even  in  the  subdued  light,   glowed 
crimson-warm  where  it  nested  on  a  crumpled  bed 
of  bank-notes  —  a  ruby  ring  —  the  last  contribu- 
tion —  it  must  have  been  the  woman  who  had 
placed  it  there.     Madison  glanced  at  her  invol- 
untarily—  but  his  thoughts  were  far  away  again 
in  a  moment. 

Anger  and  a  blind  rage  of  jealousy  were 
gripping  him  now.  Accident!  The  thought 
only  fanned  his  fury.  Accident!  Yes;  it  was 
likely  —  as  an  excuse !  There  would  have  been 
an  accident  all  right  —  leave  that  to  them ! 
Thornton  perhaps  wasn't  the  stamp  of  man  to  seek 
an  adventure  of  that  kind  deliberately  —  per- 
haps he  wasn't  —  and  perhaps  he  was  —  you 
never  could  tell  —  but  what  difference  did  that 
make !  Helena  was  that  kind  of  a  woman  — 
though  he'd  always  thought  her  true  to  him  since 
he'd  known  her  —  and  Thornton,  whatever  kind 
of  a  man  he  was,  wouldn't  run  away  from  her 
arms,  would  he? 

The  red  glow  from  the  ruby  ring  had  vanished 

—  the  man  had  risen  from  his  seat  and  was  plac- 
ing something  in  the  box  on  top  of  the  ring  — 
Madison's  mind  subconsciously  absorbed  the  fact 
that  it  was  a  little  sheaf  of  yellow-backed  bills. 
And  now  the  man  bent  to  the  table  and  was  writ- 
ing in  the  book. 


228  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Yellow-backs  and  rubies !  Rubies  and  yellow- 
backs !  Madison's  lips  thinned  and  curled  down- 
ward at  the  corners.  Oh,  it  was  coming  all  right, 
money,  jewels,  pelf,  rolling  in  merrily  every  day, 
there  wasn't  any  stopping  it,  but  he  was  paying 
for  it,  and  paying  for  it  at  a  price  he  didn't  like 

—  Helena.     Helena !     She     wanted     Thornton, 
did  she  —  with  his  money !     Wanted  to  dangle  a 
millionaire    on    her    string  —  eh?     She'd    throw 
him  over  —  would  she!     And  she  thought  she 
had  him  where  he  couldn't  lift  a  finger  to  stop  it 

—  just  sit  back  and  grin  like  a  poor,  sick  fool ! 
The  red  crept  up  the  knotted  cords  of  Madi- 
son's neck,  suffused  the  set  jaws,  and,  as  though 
suddenly   liberated   to   run    its   course   where    it 
would,  swept  in  a  *ide  over  cheeks  and  temples. 

He  couldn't  do  a  thing  —  couldn't  he!  Well, 
he'd  see  the  game  in  Gehenna  before  Thornton  or 
any  other  man  got  her  away  from  him.  She  be- 
longed to  him  —  to  him!  And  he'd  have  her, 
hold  her,  own  her  —  she  was  his  —  his!  And 
he'd  settle  with  Thornton  too,  by  Heaven! 

A  laugh,  low,  unpleasant,  purled  to  his  lips  — 
and  he  checked  it  with  a  sort  of  strange  mechani- 
cal realization  that  he  must  not  laugh  aloud.  His 
eyes  swept  the  room  —  the  man  had  returned  to 
his  seat,  the  woman  had  not  moved,  both  were 
silent,  motionless  —  that  ghastly,  hallowed,  sanc- 
timonious hush  —  that  subdued,  damnable  light 
' —  meditation ! 

"  For  God's  sake  let  me  get  out  of  here,"  he 
muttered,  "  or  I'll  go  mad." 


THE  BOOMERANG  229 

He  turned  —  and  stopped.  Came  a  cry 
spontaneously  from  the  man  and  the  woman  — • 
they  were  on  their  feet  —  no,  on  their  knees. 
The  doorway  at  the  further  end  of  the  room  was 
framing  a  majestic  figure,  tall  and  stately  —  and 
a  sun-gleam  struggling  suddenly  through  the  lat- 
tice seemed  to  leap  in  a  golden  ray  to  caress  in 
homage  the  snow-white  hair,  the  silver  beard  that 
fell  upon  the  breast,  the  saintly  face  of  the  Patri- 
arch. 

Then  into  the  room  advanced  the  Patriarch, 
and  his  hands  were  outstretched  before  him,  and 
he  moved  them  a  little  to  and  fro  —  and  the  ges- 
ture, the  poise,  the  mien,  as,  touching  nothing  he 
seemed  to  feel  His  way  through  space  itself,  was 
as  one  invoking  a  blessing  of  peace  ineffable. 

Spellbound,  Madison  watched.  Upon  the 
face  was  a  yearning  that  saddened  it,  and,  sad- 
dening, glorified  it;  the  head  was  slightly  turned 
as  though  to  listen  —  while  slowly,  with  meas- 
ured, certain  tread,  as  though  mr^r  vad  10 
need  for  eyes,  the  Patriarch,  ^ixicc  cne  cable  and 
passed  on  down  the  room.  The  man  and  the 
woman  reached  out  and  touched  him  reverently, 
and  drew  back  reverently  to  let  him  pass,  and, 
rising  from  their  knees,  followed  him  through  the 
door  and  out  onto  the  porch. 

The  room  was  empty.  Madison  stared  at  the 
doorway.  Upon  him  fell  a  sudden  awe  —  it  was 
as  though  a  vision,  an  ethereal  presence,  some 
strange  embodiment  of  power,  had  been  and  gone 
—  and  yet  still  remained. 


23o  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

And  now  from  without  there  came  a  sound  like 
a  distant  murmur.  It  rose  and  swelled,  and  be- 
gan to  roll  in  its  volume,  and  then,  like  the  clar- 
ion sound  of  trumpets,  voices  burst  into  glad  ac- 
claim. 

"The  Patriarch!  The  Patriarch!  The  Pa- 
triarch !  " 

From  the  little  hallway  came  the  Flopper,  run- 
ning —  and  he  stopped  and  gaped  at  Madison. 

"  I  left  him  in  his  room  fer  a  minute,"  he 
gasped.  "  He's  —  he's  lookin'  fer  Helena." 

And  then  Madison  shook  himself  together  —— 
and  smiled  ironically.  And  at  the  smile  the 
Flopper  hurried  on. 

Madison  stepped  out  onto  the  porch.  Helena ! 
Helena !  Within  him  seemed  to  burn  a  rage  of 
hell;  but  it  seemed,  too,  most  strangely  that  for 
the  moment  this  rage  was  held  in  abeyance,  that 
something  temporarily  supplanted  it  —  this  scene 
before  him. 

Onward  across  the  lawn  moved  the  Patriarch, 
and  the  Flopper  had  joined  him  now;  but  the  Pa- 
triarch, unheeding,  turning  neither  to  the  right 
nor  to  the  left,  his  arms  still  extended  before  him, 
kept  on.  And  the  people  cried  aloud: 

"He  is  coming  —  he  is  coming!  The  Patri- 
arch! The  Patriarch!" 

Madison  moved  on  —  out  upon  the  lawn  him- 
self. 

From  everywhere,  from  every  scattered  spot 
where  they  had  been,  men  and  women  ran  and 


THE  BOOMERANG  231 

limped  and  dragged  themselves  along,  all  con- 
verging on  one  point  —  the  Patriarch. 

Madison,  in  the  midst  of  them  now,  hurried  — 
for  it  was  plainly  evident  that  the  Flopper's  con- 
trol over  the  Patriarch  was  gone.  He  reached 
the  Patriarch  and  touched  the  other's  arm  —  and 
at  the  touch  the  Patriarch  halted  instantly,  his 
hand  went  out  and  lay  upon  Madison's  sleeve  in 
recognition,  and  he  turned  his  face,  and  it  was 
smiling  and  there  was  relief  upon  it  —  and  con- 
fidence and  trust,  as,  suffering  himself  to  be 
guided,  they  started  back  toward  the  cottage. 

And  then  upon  Madison  came  again  that 
sense  of  awe,  but  now  intensified.  From  every 
hand  tear-stained  faces  greeted  him,  white  faces, 
faces  full  of  sorrow  and  suffering  through  which 
struggled  hope  —  hope  —  hope.  They  flung 
themselves  before  the  Patriarch  —  yet  never 
blocked  the  way.  They  cried,  they  wept,  they 
prayed  —  and  some  were  silent.  It  seemed  that 
souls,  naked,  stripped,  bare,  held  themselves  up  to 
his  gaze.  Men,  prostrate  on  stretchers,  tried  to 
rise  and  stagger  nearer  —  and  fell.  Friends, 
where  there  were  friends  to  help,  tugged  and 
dragged  desperately  at  cots  —  and  from  the  cots 
in  piteous,  agonized  appeal  the  helpless  cried  out 
to  the  Patriarch  to  come  to  them.  All  of  human 
agony  and  fear  and  hope  and  despair  and  terror 
seemed  loosed  in  a  mad  and  swirling  vortex.  And 
ever  the  cries  arose,  and  ever  around  them,  giving 
way,  closing  in  again,  pressed  the  soul-rent  throng. 


232  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

And  presently  to  Madison  it  seemed  as  though 
he  had  awakened  from  some  terrifying  dream, 
as,  in  the  Patriarch's  room  again,  he  swept  away 
a  bead  of  sweat  from  his  forehead,  and  stood  and 
looked  at  the  Patriarch  and  the  Flopper. 

The  Flopper  licked  his  lips,  and  pulled  the 
Patriarch's  chair  forward  —  but  his  hands  trem- 
bled violently. 

"  It's  been  gettin'  me,  Doc,"  he  whispered, 
"an'  I  can't  help  it.  It's  been  gettin'  into  me  all 
de  time.  Say,  I  wisht  it  was  over.  Honest  to 
God  I  do !  Dis  —  dis  makes  me  queer.  Say, 
de  Patriarch's  got  me,  Doc  —  an' —  an' —  say  — 
dere's  been  somethin'  goin'  on  inside  me  dat's 
got  me  hard." 

Madison  did  not  answer  —  but  he  started  sud- 
denly — -  and  as  suddenly  stepped  to  the  window 
and  looked  out.  Over  the  cries,  the  wailings, 
the  confused  medley  of  voices,  growing  lower 
now,  subsiding,  there  had  come  the  throb  of  a 
motor  car. 

Madison's  eyes  narrowed  —  that  was  supreme 
again.  A  car  was  coming  to  a  stop  before  the 
porch  —  Thornton  was  helping  Helena  to  alight. 

Madison  turned  and  caught  the  Flopper's  arm 
in  a  fierce,  imperative  grasp. 

"  You  keep  your  mouth  shut  —  do  you  hear?  " 
he  flung  out,  clipping  off  his  words.  "  You 
haven't  seen  me  to-day  —  understand !  "  And, 
dropping  the  Flopper's  arm,  he  stepped  quickly 
across  the  little  hall  to  Helena's  door,  opened  it, 
went  in  —  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 


THE  BOOMERANG  233 

And  the  Flopper,  staring,  licked  his  lips  again. 

"  Swipe  me!  "  he  croaked  hoarsely.     "  Pipe  de 

eyes   on   de   Doc!     Dere'll  be   somethin'    doin' 


now! 


THE  SANCTUARY  OF  DARKNESS 


1 


*^HERE  was  a  grim,  merciless  smile  on 
Madison's  lips;  and  a  whiteness  in  his 
face  windowed  the  passion  that  seethed 
within  him.  He  stood  motionless,  lis- 
tening, in  Helena's  room.  He  heard  the  automo- 
bile going  away  again;  then  he  heard  Helena's 
light  step  in  the  hallway  without  —  and  the  smile 
died  as  his  lips  thinned. 

But  she  did  not  come  in  —  instead,  he  heard 
her  go  into  the  Patriarch's  room,  heard  her  talk- 
ing to  the  Patriarch,  and  bid  the  Flopper  go  to 
the  kitchen  and  make  her  some  tea.  Then  the 
Flopper's  step  sounded,  passing  down  to  the  rear 
of  the  cottage. 

The  minutes  passed  —  then  that  light  footfall 
again.  The  door  of  the  room  swung  suddenly 
wide  —  and  closed  —  there  was  a  cry  —  and 
Helena,  wide-eyed,  the  red  of  her  cheeks  fading 
away,  leaned  heavily  back  against  the  door. 

Neither  spoke.  Madison,  in  the  center  of  the 
room,  did  not  move.  The  smile  came  back  to 
his  lips. 

Helena's  great  brown  eyes  met  the  gray  ones, 
read  the  ugly  glint,  dropped,  raised  again  —  anc 
held  the  gray  ones  steadily. 

234 


THE  SANCTUARY  OF  DARKNESS     235 

Madison  gave  a  short  laugh  —  that  was  like  a 
curse.  His  hands  at  his  sides  knotted  into  lumps. 

Then  Madison  spoke. 

"  Why  don't  you  say,  *  you !  —  you! ' —  and 
scream  it  out  and  clutch  at  your  bosom  the  way 
they  do  in  story  books !  "  he  flung  out  raucously. 
"  Why  don't  you  do  your  little  stunt  —  go  on, 
you're  on  for  the  turn  —  you  can  put  anything  over 
me,  I'm  only  a  complacent,  blind-eyed  fool ! 
Anything  goes!  Why  don't  you  start  your 
act?" 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying,"  she 
said  in  a  low  voice.  "  If  there's  anything  you 
want  to  talk  about,  we'd  better  wait  until  you're 
cooler." 

"  Oh,  hell!  "  he  roared,  his  passion  full  to  the 
surface  now.  "Cut  out  the  bunk  —  cut  it  out! 
Anything!  No,  it  isn't  much  of  anything  —  for 
you  —  out  all  night  with  Thornton.  Do  you 
think  I'm  going  to  stand  for  it!  Do  you  think 
I'm  going  to  sit  and  suck  my  thumb  and  share 
you,  and — " 

"You  lie!"  She  was  away  from  the  door 
now,  close  before  him,  her  breath  coming  fast, 
white  to  the  lips,  and  in  a  frenzy  her  little  fists 
pummelled  upon  him.  "  It's  a  lie  —  a  lie  —  a 
lie!  It's  a  lie  —  and  you  know  it!" 

He  pushed  her  roughly  from  him. 

"It  is,  eh?" — his  words  came  in  a  sort  of 
wild  laugh.  "And  I  know  it  —  do  I?  Why 
should  I  know  it?  What  do  you  think  you  are? 
Say,  you'd  think  you  were  trying  to  kid  yourself 


236  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

into  believing  you're  the  real  thing  —  the  real, 
sweet,  shy,  modest  Miss  Vail.  Cut  it  out! 
You're  name's  Smith  —  maybe !  And  it's  my 
money  that's  keeping  you,  and  you  belong  to  me 

—  do  you  understand?  " 

She  stood  swaying  a  little,  her  hands  still  tightly 
clenched,  breathing  through  half  parted  lips  in 
short,  quick,  jerky  inhalations  like  dry  sobs. 

"  It's  true,"  she  faltered  suddenly  —  and  sud- 
denly buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  And  then 
she  looked  up  again,  and  the  brown  eyes  in  their 
depths  held  an  anger  and  a  shame.  "  It's  true  — 
I  was  —  was  —  what  you  say.  But  now  " —  her 
voice  hurried  on,  an  eagerness,  a  strange  earnest- 
ness in  it — "you  must  believe  me  —  you  must. 
I'll  make  you  —  I  must  make  you." 

"Oh,  don't  hurt  yourself  trying  to  do  it!" 
jeered  Madison.  "  We're  talking  plain  now. 
I'm  not  taking  into  account  how  you  feel  about  it 

—  don't  you  fool  yourself  for  a  minute.     The 
sanctity   of  my  home   hasn't  been   ruined  —  be- 
cause it  couldn't  be!     Get  that?     Thornton  don't 
get  you  —  not  for  keeps!     But  you  and  he  don't 
make  a  monkey  of  me  again.     Do  you  understand 

—  say,  do  you  get  that?     You're  mine  —  whether 
you  like  it  or  not  —  whether  you'd  rather  have 
Thornton  or  not.     But  I'll  fix  you  both  for  this 

—  I'm  no  angel  with  a  cherub's  smile !     I'll  take 
it  out  of  Thornton  till  the  laugh  he's  got  now 
fades  to  a  f are-thee-well ;  and  I'll  put  you  where 
there  aren't  any  strings  tying  me  up  the  way  there 
are  here.     Do  you  understand!  "     His  voice  rose 


THE  SANCTUARY  OF  DARKNESS     237 

suddenly,  and  for  a  moment  he  seemed  to  lose  all 
control  of  himself  as  he  reached  for  her  and 
caught  her  shoulder.  "  I  love  you,"  he  flashed 
out  between  his  teeth.  "  I  love  you  —  that's 
what's  the  matter  with  me !  And  you  know  that 
—  you  know  you've  got  me  there  —  and  you'd 
play  the  fool  with  me,  would  you  !  "  He  dropped 
his  hands  —  and  laughed  a  short,  savage  bark  — 
and  stepped  back  and  stared  at  her. 

;' Will  you  listen?" — she  was  twisting  her 
hands,  her  head  was  drooped,  the  long  lashes 
veiled  her  eyes,  her  lips  were  quivering.  "  Will 
you  listen?  "  she  said  again,  fighting  to  steady  her 
voice.  "  It  was  an  accident." 

"  I  saw  the  machine  when  you  drove  up  —  it 
was  a  wreck!  "  snapped  Madison  sarcastically. 

"  We  ran  out  of  gasoline,"  she  said  quietly. 

And  then  Madison  laughed  —  fiercely  —  in  his 
derision. 

"  Oh,  keep  on !  "  he  rasped.  "  I  told  you  I 
was  only  a  blind  fool  that  you  could  put  anything 
over  on !  That  accounts  for  it,  of  course  —  a 
breakdown  isn't  so  easy  to  get  away  with.  Gaso- 
line!" 

"  We  were  miles  from  anywhere,"  she  went  on. 
"  We  had  taken  what  we  thought  was  a  short  cut. 
Mr.  Thornton  built  a  shelter  for  me  in  the  woods, 
and  went  to  —  to  — " 

He  caught  up  her  hesitation  like  a  flash. 

"  Fake  the  lines,  Helena,  if  you  haven't  had 
enough  rehearsals,"  he  suggested  ironically. 
"  Anything  goes  —  with  me." 


238  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

And  now  a  tinge  of  color  came  to  Helena's 
cheeks,  and  the  brown  eyes  raised,  and  flashed, 
and  dropped. 

"  He  went  to  try  and  find  help,"  she  said. 
"  He  was  out  all  night  in  the  storm.  I  do  not 
know  how  far  he  must  have  walked.  I  know  the 
nearest  house  was  five  or  six  miles  away  —  and 
there  was  no  horse  there  —  the  man  had  driven 
to  some  town  that  morning.  It  was  almost  day- 
light before  Mr.  Thornton  at  last  came  back  with 
a  team.  We  were  forty  miles  from  here  —  we 
sent  the  team  to  the  nearest  town  for  gasoline 
and  then  motored  back."  She  stopped  —  and 
then,  with  a  catch  in  her  voice :  "  He  —  he  was 
very  good  to  me." 

"  Good  to  me  " —  the  words  seemed  to  stab 
at  Madison,  seemed  to  ring  in  his  ears  and  goad 
him  with  a  fiercer  jealousy  —  and  her  story 
of  the  night,  what  she  had  been  saying,  save  those 
words,  was  as  nothing,  meant  nothing,  was  swept 
from  his  consciousness  —  and  only  she,  standing 
there  before  him,  glorious,  maddening  in  her 
beauty,  remained.  Soul,  mind  and  body  leaped 
into  fiery  passion  —  she  was  his,  and  his  she  al- 
ways would  be  —  those  eyes,  those  lips,  the  white 
throat,  those  perfect  arms  to  cling  about  his  neck 
—  and  all  of  heaven  and  hell  and  earth  were 
naught  beside  her. 

"  I  love  you!  " — his  face  was  white,  his  words 
fierce-breathed,  almost  incoherent  —  and  he 
leaned  toward  her  with  a  sudden,  uncontrollable 
movement,  his  arms  sweeping  out  to  clasp  her. 


THE  SANCTUARY  OF  DARKNESS     239 

"  I  love  you,  Helena  —  I  love  you.     Do  you  un- 
derstand—  it's  you!     You  —  I  love  you!" 

'You  love  me!" — she  retreated  from  him, 
but  her  head  was  raised  now,  and  her  voice  rang 
with  a  bitterness  cold  as  the  touch  of  death. 
"  Love!  What  do  you  know  of  love!  We  talk 
plain,  you  say.  Love  —  love  for  me !  Passion, 
vice,  lust,  sin  —  and,  oh,  my  God,  degradation 
and  misery  and  shame  —  love  I  Love !  That  is 
your  love!  " 

He  stood  for  a  moment  and  stared  at  her  again 

—  and  her  face  was  as  pallid  ivory.     And  some- 
thing seemed  to  daze  him,  and  he  brushed  his 
hand  across  his  eyes  —  the  logic  was  faulty,  torn 
and  pitiful,  and  he  groped  after  the  flaw. 

"  It's  —  it's  your  love  as  well  as  mine,"  he  said 
in  a  stumbling  way  —  then  his  brain  flashed  quick 
into  action.  "  My  love  —  what  other  love  have 
you  known  but  that?  "  he  cried.  "  It's  our  love 

—  the  love  we  have  known  together  —  and  we're 
going  back  to  it  —  see  ?     I've  had  enough  of  this. 
You  pack  your  trunks  —  and  pack  them  quick ! 
We're  going  to  beat  it  out  of  here !     We're  going 
back  to  our  —  love.     We're  going  back  where  I 
don't  have  to  sit  around  like  a  puling  fool  and 
watch  Thornton  chuck  you  under  the  chin  —  we're 
going  where  he'll  want  a  tombstone  If  he  ever 
shows  his   face  there.     You  thought  the  game 
would  hold  me  to  the  last  jackpot  —  did  you? 
Well,  I've  got  enough  —  and  there's  no  game  big 
enough  to  make  me  stand  for  this.     That  looks 
like  love  —  doesn't  it?  "     He  burst  again  into  a 


240  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

sudden,  mirthless  laugh  —  and  once  again  swept 
his  hand  across  his  eyes.  '  We're  going  to  beat 
it  out  of  here  now  —  to-night  —  to-morrow  morn- 
ing." 

But  now  she  had  drawn  further  away  from  him 

—  and  there  was  a  frightened  look  in  her  eyes, 
and  her  lips  quivered  pitifully. 

"No  —  I  can't  —  I  can't,"  she  cried  out. 
"  No,  no  —  I  can't  —  I  can't  go  back  to  that." 

"That!  That  —  is  love,"  he  said  wildly. 
"  The  only  love  you  know.  What  more  do  you 
want?  There's  loot  enough  now,  and  —  ha,  ha! 

—  that  little  contribution  of  Thornton's,  to  give 
you  all  the  money  you  want.     Love,  Helena  — 
you  and  I  —  the  old  love  —  you  and  I  together 
again,  Helena.     I  tell  you  I  love  you  —  do  you 
hear?     I  love  you  —  and  I'll  have  you  —  I  love 
you !     What   do  you  know,   what   do  you  care 
about  any  other  kind  of  love !  " 

She  looked  at  him,  misery  and  fear  still  in  her 
eyes,  and  her  slight  figure  seemed  to  droop,  and 
her  hands  hung  heavy,  listless,  at  her  sides. 

"  I  care  " —  the  words  came  in  a  strange  me- 
chanical way  from  her  lips.  "  Oh,  I  care.  I 
can't  —  I  won't  go  back  to  that.  And  I  know  — 
I  know  now.  I  have  learned  what  love  is." 

Quick  over  Madison's  face  surged  the  red  in 
an  unstemmed  tide  —  volcanic  within  him  his  love 
that  he  knew  now  possessed  his  very  soul,  jealousy 
that,  blinding,  robbed  him  of  his  senses,  roused 
him  to  frenzy. 

"  Oh,  you've  learned  what  love  is,  have  you  — 


THE  SANCTUARY  OF  DARKNESS     241 

with  him!"  he  cried  —  and  sprang  for  her  and 
snatched  her  into  his  arms.  "  And  you  won't 
come,  eh?  Well,  I've  learned  what  love  is  too  in 
the  last  month  —  and  if  I  can't  get  it  one  way, 
I'll  get  it  another  " —  he  was  raining  mad  kisses 
upon  her  face,  her  hair,  her  eyes  — "  I  love  you, 
I  tell  you  —  I  love  you  1  " 

With  a  cry  she  tried  to  struggle  from  him  — 
and  then  fought  and  struck  at  him,  beating  upon 
his  face  with  her  fists.  Fiercer,  closer  he  held 
her  —  around  the  little  room,  staggering  this  way 
and  that,  they  circled.  He  kissed  her,  laughing 
hoarsely  like  a  madman,  laughing  at  the  blows, 
beside  himself,  not  knowing  what  he  did  —  mad 

—  mad  —  mad.     He  kissed  her,  kissed  the  white 
throat  where  the  dress  was  torn  now  at  the  neck ; 
imprisoned  a  little  fist  that  struck  at  him  and  kissed 
the  quivering  knuckles;  kissed  the  wealth  of  glo- 
rious, burnished-copper  hair  that,  unloosened,  fell 
about  her,  kissed  it  and  buried  his  face  in  its  rare 
fragrance.     And  then  —  and  then  his  arms  were 
empty  —  and  he  was  staring  at  the  calm,  majestic 
figure     of     the     Patriarch  —  and     Helena     was 
crouched  upon  the  floor,  and,  sobbing,  was  cling- 
ing with  arms  entwined  around  the  old  man's 
knees. 

And  so  for  a  little  while  Madison  stood  and 
stared  —  what  had  brought  the  Patriarch  there 

—  the  Patriarch  who  could  neither  see  nor  hear 
nor  speak  —  what  had  brought  him  from  his  own 
room  across  the  hall  I     And  Madison  stared,  and 
his  hands  crept  to  his  temples  and  pressed  upon 


242  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

them  —  weak  he  seemed  as  from  some  paroxysm 
of  madness  that  had  passed  over  him.  The  sun- 
light streaming  through  the  window  sheened  the 
luxuriant  mass  of  hair  that  falling  over  shoulders 
and  to  the  waist  seemed  alone  to  cloak  the  little 
figure  in  its  crouched  position  —  the  little  figure 
that  shook  so  convulsively  with  sobs  —  the  little 
figure  that  clung  so  desperately  at  the  feet  of  this 
god-like,  regal  man,  whose  beard  was  silver, 
whose  hair  was  hoary  white,  upon  whose  face, 
marring  none  its  strength  or  self-possession,  was 
a  troubled,  anxious,  questioning  look. 

Strange!  Strange!  Madison's  hands  fell  to 
his  sides.  The  Patriarch's  eyes  were  turned  full 
upon  him,  wavering  not  so  much  as  by  the  frac- 
tion of  an  inch  —  full  upon  him.  And  then,  as 
into  some  holy  sanctuary,  fending  her  from  harm 
and  danger,  the  Patriarch  turned  a  little  to  inter- 
pose himself  before  Madison,  and,  raising 
Helena,  held  her  in  his  arms,  her  head  against 
his  bosom  —  and  one  hand  lay  upon  her  head 
and  stroked  it  tenderly.  But  upon  Madison  was 
still  turned  those  sightless  eyes,  that  noble  face, 
serene,  commanding  even  in  its  perturbation,  even 
in  its  alert  and  searching  look. 

Madison  stirred  now  —  stirred  uneasily  — 
while  the  silence  held.  There  was  a  solemnity 
in  the  silence  that  seemed  to  creep  upon  and  per- 
vade the  room  —  a  sense  of  a  vast  something  that 
was  the  antithesis  of  turmoil,  passion,  strife,  that 
seemed  to  radiate  from  the  saintly  figure  whose 
lips  were  mute,  whose  ears  heard  no  sound,  whose 


THE  SANCTUARY  OF  DARKNESS     243 

eyes  saw  no  sight.  And  upon  Madison  it  fell 
potent,  masterful,  and  passion  fled,  and  in  its 
place  came  a  strange,  groping  response  within 
him,  a  revulsion,  a  penitence  —  and  he  bowed  his 
head. 

And  then  Helena  spoke  —  but  her  head  was 
turned  away  from  him,  hidden  on  the  Patriarch's 
breast. 

"  Once,"  she  said,  and  her  words  were  like 
broken  whispers,  for  she  was  sobbing  still,  "  once, 
long,  long  ago,  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  I  read 
the  story  of  Mary  Magdalen.  I  had  almost  for- 
gotten it,  it  was  so  long  ago,  but  it  has  come  back 
to  me,  and  —  and  it  is  a  glad  story  —  at  the  end." 

She  stopped  —  and  Madison  raised  his  head, 
and  his  face  was  strained  as  with  some  sudden 
wonder  as  he  looked  at  her. 

"  It  is  a  glad  story,"  she  said  presently.  "  It 
—  it  is  my  story." 

"  You  mean  " —  Madison's  voice  was  hoarse 
— "  you  mean  that  you've  turned  —  straight!  " 

"  They  love  me  here,"  she  said.  "  They  trust 
me  and  they  think  me  good  —  as  they  are.  All 
think  me  that  —  the  little  children  and  this  dear 
man  here  —  and  for  a  little  while,  since  I  have 
been  here,  I  have  lived  like  that.  They  made  me 
believe  that  it  was  true  —  true.  And  there  was 
shame  and  agony  —  and  hope.  It  seemed  they 
could  not  all  be  wrong,  and  I  have  asked  and 
prayed  that  I  might  make  it  true  always  —  and  - 
and  forgiveness  for  what  I  was." 

"  You  mean,"  he  said  again  hoarsely,  and  he 


244  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

stepped  toward  her  now,  "  you  mean  that  you 
are  —  straight!  " 

She  did  not  answer  —  only  now  she  turned  her 
face  toward  him  and  lifted  up  her  head. 

And  for  a  long  minute  Madison  gazed  into  the 
tear-splashed  eyes,  deep,  brave  in  chastened  wist- 
fulness,  gazed  —  and  like  a  man  stunned  walked 
from  the  room,  the  cottage,  and  out  across  the 
lawn. 


—  XX  — 

TO  THE  VICTOR  ARE  THE  SPOILS 

MANY  were  still  about  the  lawn  as  he 
left  the  cottage  —  they  were  all 
about  him,  those  sick,  half  frantic 
creatures  —  and  still  they  made 
noises;  still  some  of  them  cried  and  sobbed;  still 
in  their  waning  paroxysms  they  moved  hither  and 
thither.  They  appealed  to  some  numbed,  dor- 
mant sense  in  Madison,  in  a  subconscious  way,  as 
things  to  be  avoided.  And  so,  almost  mechanic- 
ally, he  took  the  little  path  that,  striking  off  at 
right  angles  to  the  wagon  track  where  it  joined 
the  Patriarch's  lawn,  came  out  again  upon  the 
main  road  at  the  further  end  of  the  village. 

And,  as  he  walked,  like  tidal  waves  on-rushing, 
emotions,  utterly  at  variance  one  with  another, 
hurled  themselves  upon  him,  and  he  was  swept 
from  his  mental  balance,  tossed  here  and  there, 
rolled  gasping,  strangling  in  the  chaos  and  turmoil 
of  the  waters,  as  it  were,  and,  rising,  was  hurled 
back  again. 

White  as  death  itself  was  Madison's  face;  and 
at  times  his  fingers  with  a  twitching  movement 
curled  into  clenched  fists,  at  times  his  open  palms 
sought  his  temples  in  a  queer  wriggling  way  and 
pressed  upon  them.  Doubt,  anger,  fear,  a  rage 

245 


246  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

unhallowed  —  in  cycles  —  buffeted  him  until  his 
brain  reeled,  and  he  was  as  a  man  distraught. 

It  began  at  the  beginning,  that  cycle,  and 
dragged  him  along  —  and  left  him  like  one 
swooning,  tottering,  upon  the  edge  of  a  precipice. 
And  then  it  began  over  again. 

And  it  began  always  with  a  picture  of  the  Roost 
that  night  —  the  vicious,  unkempt,  ragged  figure 
of  the  Flopper  —  the  sickly,  thin,  greedy  face  of 
Pale  Face  Harry,  the  drug  fiend,  winching  a  little 
as  he  plunged  the  needle  into  his  flesh  —  the  easy, 
unprincipled  gaiety  and  eagerness  of  Helena  for 
the  new  path  of  crime  —  crime  —  crime  —  the 
Roost  exuded  crime  —  filth  —  immorality  — 
typified  them,  framed  them  well  as  they  had  sat 
there,  the  four  of  them,  while  that  bruised-nosed 
bouncer  had  brought  them  drink  on  his  rattling 
tin  tray.  And  then  his  own  self-satisfied,  smug, 
complacent  egotism  at  his  own  cleverness,  his  un- 
bounded confidence  in  his  own  ability  to  pull  off 
the  game,  and  — 

Well,  he  had  pulled  it  off  —  he'd  won  it  — 
won  it  —  won  it  —  everybody  had  fallen  for  it 
i — the  boobs  had  been  plentiful  —  the  harvest 
rich.  What  was  the  matter  with  him!  He'd 
won  —  was  winning  every  time  the  clock  ticked. 
Somebody  back  there  was  probably  throwing  good 
hard  coin  at  him  this  minute  —  the  damned  fool ! 
Madison  threw  back  his  head  to  laugh  in  derision, 
for  there  was  mocking,  contemptuous  laughter  in 
his  soul  —  but  the  laugh  died  still-born  upon  his 
lips. 


THE  SPOILS  247 

It  was  fear  now  —  fear  —  staggering,  ap- 
palling him.  He  was  facing  something  — 
something  —  his  brain  did  not  seem  to  define  it  — 
a  something  that  was  cold  and  stern  and  immuta- 
ble, that  was  omnipotent,  that  embodied  awe 
—  a  condemnation  unalterable,  unchangeable,  be- 
fore which  he  shrank  back  with  his  soul  afraid. 
Before  him  seemed  to  unfold  itself  the  wagon 
track,  the  road  to  the  Patriarch's  cottage;  and 
he  was  there  again,  and  whispering  lips  were 
around  him,  and  men  and  women  and  children 
were  there,  and  in  front  of  them,  leading  them, 
slithered  that  twisted,  misshapen,  formless  thing 
1 — •  and  now  they  were  upon  the  lawn,  and  about 
him  everywhere,  everywhere,  everywhere  was  a 
sea  of  white  faces  out  of  which  the  eyes  burned 
like  living  coals.  What  power  was  this  that, 
loosed,  had  stricken  them  to  palsied,  moaning 
things ! 

Madison  shivered  a  little  —  and  a  sweat  bead 
oozed  out  and  glistened  upon  his  forehead. 
Hark  —  what  was  that!  Clarionlike,  clear  as 
the  chimes  of  a  silver  bell,  rang  now  that  childish 
voice  —  rang  out,  and  rang  out  again  —  and  the 
crutch  was  gone  —  and  the  lame  boy  ran,  ran  — 
ran!  And  who  was  that,  that  stood  before  him 
now  —  that  golden-haired  woman  beside  an 
empty  wheel-chair,  whose  face  was  radiant,  who 
cried  aloud  that  she  was  cured!  And  who  were 
these  others  of  later  days,  this  motley  crowd  of 
old  and  young,  that  passed  before  him  in  proces- 
sion, that  cried  out  the  same  words  that  golden- 


248  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

haired  woman  by  the  wheel-chair  had  cried — • 
and  cried  out:     "Faith!     Faith!     Faith!" 

Madison  swept  the  sweat  bead  from  his  fore- 
head with  a  trembling  hand.  It  was  a  lie  —  a  lie 
• —  a  lie  !  He  had  taught  them  to  say  that  —  but 
it  was  all  bunk  —  and  all  were  fools !  He  could 
laugh  at  them,  jeer  at  them,  mock  at  them,  deride 
them  —  they  were  his  playthings  —  and  faith  was 
his  plaything  —  and  he  could  laugh  at  them  all ! 

And  again  he  raised  his  head  to  laugh;  and 
again  the  laugh  was  choked  in  his  throat,  still-born 
— -  Helena  was  straight!  To  his  temples  went 
his  twitching  hands.  Anger  raged  upon  him  — 
and  died  in  fear.  Anger,  for  the  instant  mad- 
dening him,  that  he  should  lose  her;  rage  in 
ungovernable  fury  that  the  game,  his  plans,  the 
hoard  accumulated,  was  bursting  like  a  bubble 
before  his  eyes  —  died  in  fear.  No,  no ;  he  had 
not  meant  to  lau'gh  or  mock  —  no,  no ;  not  that, 
not  that!  What  was  this  loosed  titanic  power 
that  had  done  these  things  —  that  had  brought 
this  change  in  Helena ;  that  had  brought  a  change 
in  the  Flopper,  transforming  the  miserable,  piti- 
ful, whining  thief  into  a  man  reaching  out  for 
decent  things ;  that  had  wrought  at  least  a  physical 
metamorphosis  in  Pale  Face  Harry  —  that  had; 
transfigured  those  three  who,  in  their  ugly,  aban- 
doned natures  then,  had  hung  like  vultures  on  his 
words  in  the  Roost  that  night!  What  was  this 
power  that  he  was  trifling  with,  that  brought  him 
now  this  cold,  dead  fear  before  which  he  quailed! 
What  was  this  something  that  in  his  temerity  he 


THE  SPOILS  249 

had  dared  invoke  —  that  rose  now  engulfing  him, 
a  puny  maggot  —  that  snatched  him  up  and  flung 
him  headlong,  shackled,  before  this  nebulous,  ter- 
rifying tribunal,  where  out  of  nothingness,  out  of 
a  void,  the  calm,  majestic  features  of  the  Patri- 
arch took  form  and  changed,  and  changed,  and 
kept  changing,  and  grew  implacable,  set  with  the 
stamp  of  doom.  What  was  it  —  in  God's  name, 
what  was  it  brought  these  sweat  beads  bursting 
to  his  forehead!  Was  he  going  mad  —  was  he 
mad  already! 

And  then  the  cycle  again  —  doubt,  anger,  fear 

—  until  his  brain,  exhausted,  seemed  to  refuse  its 
functions ;  and  it  was  as  though,  heavy,  oppressing, 
a  dense  fog  shut  down  upon  his  mind  and  envel- 
oped it;  and  now  he  walked  as  a  man  in  great 
haste,  hurrying,  and  now  his  pace  was  slow,  un- 
certain. 

And  so  he  went  on,  following  the  little  path  that 
bordered  the  woods  on  one  hand  and  the  fields 
on  the  other;  went  on  until  he  neared  the  village 

—  and    then    he    stopped   suddenly,    and   turned 
about.     Some  one  had  called  his  name. 

From  the  field,  a  man  climbed  over  the  fence 
and  came  toward  him.  The  man's  face  was 
tanned  and  rugged,  his  form  erect,  and  the  sleeves 
rolled  back  above  the  elbows  displayed  browned 
and  muscular  forearms.  Madison  stared  at  the 
man  apathetically.  This  was  the  farm  of  course 
where  Pale  Face  Harry  boarded,  and  this  was 
Pale  Face  Harry  —  but  — 

"  Doc,"  said  Pale  Face  Harry,  and  he  shuffled 


250  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

his  feet  and  looked  down,  "  Doc,  I  got  something 
I've  been  wanting  to  say  to  you  for  a  week." 

Madison  still  gazed  at  him  apathetically  — 
Pale  Face  Harry  for  the  moment  was  as  some  un- 
warrantable apparition  suddenly  appearing  before 
him. 

Pale  Face  Harry  raised  his  eyes,  lowered  them, 
kicked  at  a  clod  of  earth  with  the  toe  of  his  boot 
—  and  raised  his  eyes  again. 

"  Say,"  he  blurted  out,  "  I'm  through,  Doc. 
I'm  —  I'm  going  to  quit." 

Into  Madison's  stumbling  brain  leaped  and  took 
form  but  one  idea  —  and  he  jumped  forward, 
reaching  savagely  for  Pale  Face  Harry's  throat. 

"  You'd  throw  me,  would  you !  You'd  throw 
the  game  —  would  you !  "  he  snarled,  as  his  fin- 
gers locked. 

Pale  Face  Harry,  twisting,  wriggled  free  — 
and  retreated  a  step. 

"  No;  I  ain't!  "  he  gasped  —  and  then  his  sen- 
tences came  tumbling  out  upon  each  other  jerkily, 
as  though  he  were  trying  to  compress  what  he 
had  to  say  into  as  few  words  as  possible  and  as 
quickly  as  he  could,  while  he  watched  Madison 
warily.  "  I  ain't  throwing  nothing.  I  just  want 
to  quit  myself.  I  keeps  my  mouth  shut  —  see? 
I  don't  want  none  of  the  share  what's  coming. 
Say,  I've  got  more'n  a  hundred  times  that  out  of 
it.  Look  at  me,  Doc!  Say,  I'm  like  a  horse. 
That's  the  Patriarch  and  living  honest.  Say,  in 
all  me  life  I  never  knew  what  it  was  before  till 
we  comes  here.  If  I  took  the  dough  what's  com- 


THE  SPOILS  251 

ing  I'd  go  back  to  the  old  hell,  and  I'd  go  down 
and  out  again.  Say,  it  ain't  worth  it,  there's  noth- 
ing in  it.  I  ain't  throwing  you,  Doc  —  I  just 
blows  out  of  here  with  me  trap  closed.  Say,  look 
at  me,  Doc  —  don't  you  get  what  I  mean?" 
:  And  then  Madison  burst  into  a  peal  of  wild, 
strange  laughter;  and,  as  though  no  man  stood  be- 
fore him,  started  on  along  the  path  —  and  Pale 
Face  Harry  sidled  out  of  his  way  and  stared  after 
him. 

"  For  —  for  God's  sake,  Doc,"  he  called  out, 
stammering,  "  what's  the  matter?  " 

But  Madison  made  no  answer.  He  heard  Pale 
Face  Harry  call  out  behind  him;  in  a  subconscious, 
mazed  way,  he  sensed  the  other  following  him, 
gropingly,  hesitantly,  for  a  few  yards,  then  hold 
back  —  and  finally  stop. 

The  path  swerved.  Madison  went  on  — 
blindly,  mechanically,  as  though,  once  set  in  mo- 
tion, he  must  go  on.  Some  ghastly,  unnatural 
thing  was  clogging  his  brain ;  not  only  in  a  mental 
way,  but  clogging  it  until  there  was  physical  hurt 
and  pain,  an  awful  tightness  —  something  —  if 
he  could  only  reach  it  with  his  fingers  and  claw  it 
away!  There  was  black  madness  here,  and  a 
pain  insufferable  —  a  damnable  impotence,  rob- 
bing him  of  even  the  power,  the  faculty  to  think 
or  reason,  or  to  make  himself  understand  in  any 
logical  degree  the  meaning  or  the  cause  of  this 
thing  that  sent  his  brain  swirling  sick. 

He  halted.  His  lips  were  working;  the  muscles 
of  his  face  quivered.  And  suddenly,  snatching  his 


252  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

hat  from  his  head,  he  flung  himself  on  the  ground 
and  plunged  face  and  head,  feverishly,  tigerishly, 
into  the  little  brook  that  ran  beside  the  path. 
Again  and  again  he  buried  his  face  in  the  cold, 
clear,  refreshing  water  —  and  then,  still  on  hands 
and  knees,  he  raised  his  head  to  listen.  Softly, 
full  of  a  great  peace,  full  of  a  strange  sweetness 
that  knew  no  discord,  no  strife,  the  notes  of  the 
ciu,pel  bell  floated  across  the  fields.  Evening  had 
come;  the  day's  work  was  done  —  it  was  benedic- 
tion time.  It  was  the  call  of  the  faithful  —  the 
Angelus  of  those  who  believed. 

It  came,  the  revulsion,  to  Madison  in  a  choked 
sob  —  and  he  stood  up.  The  day's  work  was 
done  —  here.  Here  they  would  go  in  quiet 
thankfulness  each  from  the  farm  to  his  little  cot- 
tage, each  to  his  simple,  wholesome  meal,  each 
to  the  twilight  hours  of  gentle  communion  as  they 
talked  to  one  another  from  their  doorways,  each 
to  his  bed  and  his  rest,  tranquil  in  the  love  of  God 
and  of  man. 

Madison  flung  back  the  dripping  hair  from  his 
forehead.  Strange,  the  contrast  that,  unbidden, 
came  insistently  to  him  now :  The  liquid  notes  of 
the  bell  wafted  sweetly  on  the  evening  breeze; 
the  howling,  jangling  turmoil  of  the  city  slums,  of 
his  familiar  haunts  where,  in  mad  chaos,  reigned 
the  hawkers'  cries,  the  thunder  of  the  elevated 
trains,  the  noisome  traffic  of  the  street,  the  raucous 
clang  of  trolley  bells  —  the  sweet  perfume  of  the 
fields,  the  smell  of  trees,  of  earth,  of  all  of  God's 
pure  things  untouched,  unsoiled;  the  stench  of 


THE  SPOILS  253 

Chatham  Square,  the  reek  of  whiskey  spilled  with 
the  breath  of  obscene,  filthy  lips  —  the  little  vil- 
lage that  he  could  see  beyond  him,  the  tiny  curls 
of  blue  smoke  rising  like  the  incense  from  an  altar 
over  the  roofs  of  houses  whose  doors  had  no 
locks,  whose  windows  were  not  barred,  where 
plain,  homely  folk,  unsullied,  lived  at  peace  with 
God  and  the  world;  the  closed  areaways  of  the 
Bowery,  the  creaking  stairs,  the  dim  hallways 
leading  to  dens  of  vileness  and  iniquity  where, 
safe  by  bolts  from  interruption,  crime  bred  its 
offsprings  and  vice  was  hatched.  What  did  it 
mean! 

And  so  he  stood  there  for  a  little  space;  then 
presently  he  started  forward  again ;  and  presently 
lie  reached  the  village  street,  walked  down  its 
length,  greeted  from  every  doorway  with  hearty, 
unaffected  sincerity,  and  after  a  little  while  he 
came  to  the  hotel,  and  to  his  room  —  and  there 
he  locked  the  door. 

Helena  was  straight  —  the  words  were  repeat- 
ing themselves  over  and  over  in  his  brain.  He 
began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  room.  The  words 
seemed  to  take  form  and  shape  in  fiery  red  letters, 
being  scrawled  by  invisible  hands  upon  the  walls 
—  Helena  was  straight.  Straight  with  Thornton, 
straight  with  any  man  —  straight  with  her  Maker. 
He  knew  that  now  —  he  had  read  it  as  a  soul- 
truth  in  those  brave,  deep,  tear-dimmed  eyes. 
And  he  had  lost  her!  It  seemed  as  though  he 
had  become  suddenly  conscious  that  he  was  en- 
during some  agony  that  was  never  to  know  an 


254  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

end,  that  from  now  on  must  be  with  him  always. 
He  had  lost  her  —  lost  Helena. 

From  his  pocket  he  drew  out  his  keys  and 
opened  his  trunks,  and  took  out  the  trays  and 
spread  them  about.  There  were  very  many  trays, 
they  nested  one  upon  the  other  —  and  they  were 
exceedingly  ingenious  trays  —  false-bottomed 
every  one.  And  now  he  opened  these  false-bot- 
toms, every  one  of  them,  and  stood  and  looked  at 
them.  The  surest,  safest,  biggest  game  he  had 
ever  played,  the  game  that  had  known  no  single 
hitch,  the  game  that  had  brought  no  whispering 
breath  of  suspicion  flung  its  tribute  in  his  face. 
Money  that  he  had  never  tried  to  count,  notes  of 
all  denominations,  large  and  small,  glutted  the 
receptacles  —  jewels  in  necklaces,  in  rings,  in 
pendants,  in  brooches,  in  bracelets,  diamonds,  ru- 
bies, emeralds,  winked  at  him  and  scintillated  and 
glowed  and  were  afire. 

And  he  stood  and  looked  upon  them.  What 
was  it  the  Flopper  had  said  when  they  had  brought 
the  Patriarch  back  —  he  did  not  remember. 
What  was  it  that  Pale  Face  Harry  had  said  a  lit- 
tle while  ago  —  he  did  not  remember.  These 
were  jewels  here  and  money  —  wealth  —  and  he 
had  won  the  greatest  game  that  was  ever  played 
—  only  he  had  lost  her  —  lost  Helena.  And  he 
stood  and  looked  upon  them  —  and  slowly  there 
crept  to  his  face  a  white-lipped  smile. 

"I'm  beat!"  he  whispered  hoarsely.  "Beat 
• —  by  the  game  ?—- 1  won." 


FACE   VALUE 

IT  was  evening  of  the  same  day  —  and  there 
came  a  knock  at  the  outer  door  of  the  cot- 
tage porch. 
The  Flopper  answered  it,  and  came  back 
to   the   Patriarch's   room;   where   the   Patriarch 
sat  in  his  armchair;  where  the  lamp,  turned  low, 
throwing  the  little  room  into  half  shadow,  burned 
upon  the  table ;  where  Helena,  far  away  from  her 
immediate  surroundings,  quite  silent  and  still,  her 
own  chair  close  beside  the  other's,  nestled  with, 
her  head  on  the  Patriarch's  shoulder. 

Helena  looked  up  as  the  Flopper  returned. 

Upon  the  Flopper's  face  was  a  curious  expres- 
sion —  not  one  that  in  the  days  gone  by  had  been 
habitual  —  it  seemed  to  mingle  a  diffidence,  a 
kindly  solicitude  and  a  sort  of  anxious  responsi- 
bility. 

"  It's  Thornton  askin'  fer  youse,"  announced 
the  Flopper. 

Helena  rose  from  her  chair,  and  started  for 
the  door  —  but  the  Flopper  blocked  the  way. 
Helena  halted  and  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

The  Flopper  licked  his  lips. 

"  Say,  Helena,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  if  I  was 
255 


THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

youse  I  wouldn't  go  —  say,   I'll  tell  him  youse 
have  got  de  pip  an'  gone  ter  bed." 

"Not  go?"  echoed  Helena.  "What  do  you 
mean?" 

The  Flopper  scratched  at  his  chin  uneasily. 

"Oh,  you  know!"  he  said.  "  De  Doc  let 
youse  down  easy  ter-day.  Say,  if  youse  had  piped 
his  lamps  when  you  drives  up  in  de  buzz-wagon 
dis  afternoon  youse  wouldn't  be  lookin'  fer  any 
more  trouble.  Say,  I'm  tellin'  youse  straight, 
Helena.  When  I  was  out  dere  in  de  kitchen  an' 
youse  was  in  yer  room  wid  him  me  heart  was  in 
me  mouth  all  de  time.  Youse  can  take  it  from 
me,  Helena,  he  let  youse  down  easy." 

Helena's  brown  eyes,  a  little  wistfully,  a  little 
Softly,  held  upon  the  Flopper. 
1  Yes?"  she  said  quietly. 

**  Youse  had  better  cut  it  out  ter-night,  Helena," 
the  Flopper  went  on.  "  Y'oughter  know  de  Doc 
by  dis  time  —  de  guy  dat  starts  anything  wid  de 
Doc  gets  his  —  dat's  all !  Remember  de  night 
he  threw  Cleggy  down  de  stairs  in  de  Roost?  — 
an*  he  was  only  havin'  fun !  Say,  you  go  out  wid 
Thornton  again  ter-night  an'  de  Doc  finds  it  out 
—  an'  something'll  happen.  Say,  Helena,  fer 
Clod's  sake,  don't  youse  do  it  —  de  Doc  was  bad 
enough  dis  afternoon  when  he  let  youse  down  easy, 
but  he's  worse  now,  an' — " 

"  Worse  ?  "  Helena  interrupted,  smiling  a  lit- 
tle apathetically.  "  In  what  way  is  he  worse  ? 
JAnd  how  do  you  know?  You  haven't  seen  Doc, 
•have  you  ?  " 


FACE  YALUE 

"  No,"  the  Flopper  answered,  circling  his  lips 
with  his  tongue  again.  "  No ;  I  ain't  seen  de  Doc 
since  —  but  I  seen  Pale  Face.  Say,  Helena  " — <• 
the  Flopper's  words  came  stumbling  out  now,  agi- 
tated, perturbed,  not  altogether  coherent  r— * 
"  wot's  de  answer  I  dunno ;  I  dunno  wot's  de 
matter  here.  Say  " —  he  pointed  suddenly  to  the 
Patriarch,  whose  face  was  turned  toward  then* 
as  he  stroked  thoughtfully  at  his  silver  beard — ^ 
*'  he's  got  me  fer  fair  —  dere  ain't  no  fake  here 
< —  dis  way  ter  live  is  de  real  t'ing  —  he  ain't  like 
you  an'  me  —  he's  more'n  dat  —  look  at  him  now 
—  youse'd  t'ink  he  could  see  us,  an'  was  listenin' 
ter  wot  we  said.  I  dunno  wot's  de  end  —  I 
dunno  wot's  de  matter  wid  me.  I  was  scared 
more'n  ever  out  dere  dis  afternoon  on  de  lawn, 
an'  I  thought  mabbe  God  'ud  strike  me  dead  — 
but  'tain't  only  dat  I'm  scared  ter  buck  de  game 
any  more,  'tain't  only  dat  —  I  don't  wanter  any 
more,  an'  it  don't  make  no  difference  about  de 
dough  —  I  wanter  live  straight,  same  as  hirn^ 
same  as  de  guys  around  here,  same  —  same  a£ 
Mamie.  Say,  Helena,  say,  do  youse  believe  in 
love  —  in  —  in  de  real  t'ing  ?  " 

Helena's  apathy  was  gone  now  —  a  flush  dyed 
her  cheeks.  She  was  not  startled  at  what  the;1 
Flopper  had  said  —  she  had  seen  it  coming,  sub- 
consciously, vaguely,  mistily,  for  days  now,  onljf 
she  had  been  immersed  in  herself  —  she  was  not 
startled,  and  yet,  in  a  way,  she  was.  The  end! 
She  too  had  been  thinking  about  that  — *  and  shg 
loo  did  not  know.  SVhat  was.  the  end  2 


25.8  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"  You  were  going  to  say  something  about  Pale 
Face,"  she  said,  prompting  the  Flopper.. 
"  Something  about  Pale  Face  and  Doc." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Flopper,  and  again  the  tip  o£ 
his  tongue  sought  his  lips  nervously.  "  Dat's 
.why  I  don't  want  youse  ter  go  out  wid  Thornton 
ter-night;  Pale  Face  has  got  it  de  same  as  me, 
an'  he  told  de  Doc  dis  afternoon,  out  in  de  path 
dere,  after  de  Doc  left  de  cottage  here.  Dere 
was  a  showdown  —  see  ?  De  Doc  'ud  kill  youse 
an'  Thornton  ter-night  if  he  caught  youse  ter- 
gether.  He's  like  a  wild  man.  When  Pale  Face 
tells  him  he  was  goin'  ter  quit,  de  Doc  makes  a 
grab  fer  him  by  de  t'roat  like  a  tiger,  only  Pale 
Face  gets  away,  an*  den  de  Doc  goes  off  widout  a 
word,,  laughin*  like  he'd  escaped  out  of  a  dippy- 
house.  An'  Pale  Face  was  shakin'  like  he  had  a 
fit  when  he  gets  here.,  Say,  Helena,  don't  yousQ 
go  ter-night." 

Helena  made  no  answer  for  a  moment/ 
[Thoughts,  a  world  of  them,  confused'her,  crowded 
upon  her,  as  they  had  ever  since  Madison  had 
left  her  room  a  few  hours  ago  •. —  and  the  futuraj 
was  as  some  dread,  bewildering  maze  through 
which  she  had  tried  to  stumble  and  grope  her  way 
s— >and  had  lost  herself  ever  deeper.  How  full 
of  utter,  miserable,  bitter  irony  it  was  that  this 
thing,  unscrupulous  and  shameful,  that  they  had 
created  in  their  guilt  should  have  brought  the 
beauty  and  the  glory  and  the  yearning  of  a  new 
life  to  her  —  and  yet  should  chain  her  remorse 


FACE  VALUE  259 

lessly  to  the  old!  True,  she  had  broken  with 
Madison,  irrevocably,  forever,  she  supposed,  it 
could  not  be  other  than  that,  for  the  ugly  bond 
between  them  was  severed  —  but  the  game  still 
went  on!  In  repentance,  on  her  bended  knees, 
sobbing  as  a  tired  and  worn-out  child,  she  could 
ask  for  forgiveness;  but  the  double  life,  the  du- 
plicity, by  reason  of  the  very  nature  in  which  they 
had  fashioned  this  iniquitous  monster,  still  went  on, 
and  like  some  hideous  octopus  reached  out  its 
waving,  feeling  tentacles  to  encircle  her  —  the 
Patriarch  there;  the  world-wide  publicity,  those 
poor  creatures  upon  whose  misery  and  whose  suf- 
fering, upon  whose  frantic,  frenzied  snatching 
out  at  hope  they  had  preyed  and  fed  and  gorged 
themselves;  the  life  itself  that  she  had  taken  up, 
in  its  minutiae,  in  its  care  of  this  great-souled, 
great-hearted  man  so  dear  to  her  now,  the  life 
itself  because  it  was  what  it  was,  changed  though 
she  herself  might  be,  though  her  soul  cried  out 
against  it  in  its  new-found  purity  —  all  this  still 
held  her  fast  1  The  end  —  she  could  not  see  the 
end.  What  would  Madison  do  —  and  there  was 
Thornton.  Thornton !  She  caught  her  breath  a 
little.  Yes;  she  had  promised  Thornton  she 
would  see  him  to-night  —  she  knew  well  enough 
why  he  wanted  to  see  her  —  last  night  had  told 
her  that  —  he  loved  her.  Her  face  softened. 
Last  night  —  it  seemed  a  thousand  years  ago,  and 
it  seemed  but  as  an  instant  passed  —  last  night  — > 
she  had  learned  what  love  was,  and  — » 


THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Tho  Flopper  stirred  uneasily. 

"Wot'll  I  tell  him?"  asked  the  Flopper. 
**  He's  waitin'  out  dere  by  de  porch." 

"Why  —  why  nothing,"  said  Helena,  and  she 
smiled  a  little  tremulously  at  the  Flopper. 
"  Nothing.  I'll  —  I'll  go  and  see  him." 

"  Say,  Helena,"  protested  the  Flopper,  "  don't 
youse  — " 

But  Helena  stepped  by  him  now. 

"  Don't  leave  the  Patriarch,"  she  cautioned, 
turning  on  the  threshold.  "I  —  I  won't  be  late." 

She  passed  down  the  little  hall,  through  the 
still,  quiet  room  beyond,  empty  now,  through  the 
porch,  and  out  into  the  night  —  and  then  from 
out  the  shadows  by  the  row  of  maples,  Thornton 
came  hurriedly  toward  her,  holding  out  his  hands. 

"  It's  good  of  you  to  come,  Miss  Vail,"  he  said, 
in  his  grave,  quiet  way.  "  You  must  be  nearly 
dead  with  weariness  after  last  night,  and  I  am 
afraid  I  am  not  very  thoughtful  —  only  I  — "  he 
broke  off  suddenly.  "  Shall  we  sit  here  on  the 
bench  for  a  little  while,  or  would  you  rather  walk 
—  I  —  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

It  was  very  dark  —  the  storm  of  the  night  be- 
fore still  lingered  in  a  wrack  of  flying  clouds, 
scurrying  one  after  the  other,  veiling  the  stars  — 
and  the  moon  was  hidden  —  and  hidden  too  was 
the  sudden  whiteness  of  Helena's  face.  She 
knew  what  he  had  to  say,  knew  it  before  she  had 
come  to  him  —  and  yet  she  was  there  —  and  she 
had  come  resolutely  enough  —  only  now  she  was 
afraid. 


FACE  VALUE  261 

*  I  would  rather  walk  a  little,  I  think,11  she  said. 
"  Here  where* —  where  I  can  be  within  call.  My 
absence  last  night  seems  to  have  made  the  Patri- 
arch very  uneasy,  you  know,  and  —  and  —  let  us 
just  walk  up  and  down  here  beneath  the  maples 
in  front  of  the  cottage." 

How  heavy  upon  the  air  lay  the  fragrance  of 
the  flowers;  how  still  the  night  was,  save  for  the 
constant  muffled  boom  of  the  breaking  surf!  — 
for  a  moment  an  almost  ungovernable  impulse 
swept  upon  her  to  make  some  excuse,  anything, 
no  matter  how  wild,  a  sudden  faintness,  anything, 
and  run  from  him  back  into  the  cottage.  And 
then  she  tried  to  think,  think  in  a  desperate  sort 
of  way  of  some  subject  of  conversation  that  she 
might  introduce  that  would  stave  off,  postpone, 
defer  the  words  that  she  knew  were  even  now  on 
his  lips  —  nothing  —  she  could  think  of  nothing 
—  only  that  she  might  have  let  the  Flopper  have 
his  way,  have  let  him  tell  Thornton  that  she  had 
gone  to  bed  with  —  the  pip.  The  pip!  She 
could  have  screamed  out  hysterically  as  the  word 
flashed  all  unbidden  upon  her  —  it  stood  for  a 
very  great  deal  that  word  —  her  world  of  the; 
years  of  yesterday.  Could  she  never  get  away 
from  that  world;  was  it  too  late — < already! 
Could  she,  even  with  all  the  earnestness,  all  the 
yearning  that  filled  her  soul,  ever  live  it  down, 
ever  be  what  Naida  Thornton  had  called  her  that 
night  —  a  good  woman !  Could  she  — 

Thornton  was  speaking  now  —  how  strange 
that  she  would  have  done  anything,  given 


262  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

thing  to  prevent  his  speaking  —  and  done  any- 
thing, given  anything  to  make  him  speak!  How 
strange  and  perplexed  and  dismayed  her  brain 
was !  Love !  Yes ;  she  wanted  love !  God 
knew  she  wanted  love  such  as  his  was  —  for  he 
had  shown  her  what  love,  free  from  abasing  pas- 
sion, in  its  purest  sense,  was.  Like  a  glimpse  of 
glory,  hallowed,  full  of  wondrous  amazement,  it 
came  to  her  —  and  then  her  head  was  lowered, 
and  the  whiteness  was  upon  her  face  again. 

He  had  halted  suddenly  and  detained  her  with 
his  hand  upon  her  arm  —  with  that  touch,  so  full 
of  reverence,  of  fine  deference,  that  had  thrilled 
her  before  —  that  thrilled  her  now,  awakening 
into  fuller  life  these  new  emotions  whose  birth 
was  in  gladder,  sweeter,  purer  aspirations. 

"  Miss  Vail,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  there 
was  a  letter  —  a  letter  that  Naida  left  —  did  you 
know  of  it?  " 

They  were  close  together,  and  it  was  very  dark 
—  but  was  it  dark  enough  to  hide  the  crimson 
that  she  felt  sweeping  in  a  flood  to  her  face ! 
What  was  in  that  letter?  Had  Mrs.  Thornton 
written  as  she  had  talked,  or  only  about  the  Pa- 
triarch and  the  work  in  Needley?  She  had  for- 
gotten for  the  moment  about  the  letter  —  if  there 
were  more  in  it  than  that,  if  it  were  about  Thorn- 
ton and  herself  and  what  Mrs.  Thornton  had 
hoped  for  between  them,  and  she  admitted  knowl- 
edge of  it,  what  would  he  think,  what  could  he 
think  of  her!  But  to  deny  it  —  no,  not  now. 
Once,  and  this  came  to  her  in  a  little  thrill  of 


FACE  VALUE  263 

gladness,  she  would  not  have  hesitated;  but  now 
it  —  it  was  = —  it  was  not  that  world  of  yester- 
day. 

"Yes,"  she  said  faintly;  "she  told  me  that 
she  had  left  a  letter  for  you." 

"  If  was  about  the  work  here,"  said  Thornton 
gently.  "  Her  whole  soul  seemed  wrapt  up  in 
that  —  and  she  asked  me  as  her  last  wish  to  do 
what  she  would  have  done  if  she  had  lived;  and 
she  spoke  of  you  very  beautifully."  Thornton 
paused  for  a  moment  —  then  he  laid  his  hands  on 
Helena's  shoulders  —  and  she  felt  them  tremble 
a  little.  "Miss  Vail  —  Helena,"  he  said,  and 
his  voice  was  full  of  passionate  earnestness  now, 
"I  cannot  say  these  things  well  —  only  simply. 
I  came  back  here  to  take  an  interest  in  the  work, 
for  I  too  have  it  at  heart  —  but  I  have  more  than 
that  now  —  there  is  you  —  your  dear  self.  I 
love  you,  Helena  —  you  have  come  into  my  life 
until  you  are  everything  and  all  to  me.  Helena, 
look  up  at  me  —  will  you  marry  me,  dear?  Tell 
me  what  I  long  to  hear.  Helena,  Helena  —  I 
love  you !  " 

But  Helena  did  not  answer  —  only  very  slowly 
she  raised  her  head.  And  his  hands  on  her  shoul- 
ders tightened,  and  he  was  drawing  her  gently 
toward  him.  Then  he  bent  his  head  until  it  was 
close  to  hers,  and  his  breath  was  upon  her  cheek 
as  it  had  been  that  other  night  —  and  the  longing 
to  know  that  it  was  hers,  a  caress,  pure  in  its 
motive,  hers,  snatched  out  of  all  that  had  gone 
before  that  sought  to  rob  her  of  the  right  to  ever 


264  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

know  it,  fascinated  her,  held  her  spellbound,  pos- 
sessed her.  Closer  his  lips  came  to  hers,  closer, 
until  they  touched  her  —  and  then,  with  a  cry,  she 
sprang  back,  and  her  hands  were  fiercely  pressed 
against  her  cheeks,  her  throbbing  temples.  Was 
she  mad!  Mad!  Was  it  for  this  that  she  had 
forced  herself  to  give  him  the  opportunity  to  speak 
to-night,  when  her  motive  was  so  different,  when 
it  had  seemed  the  only  right  thing  left  for  her 
to  do! 

And  now,  still  holding  her  temples,  she  raised 
her  eyes  to  Thornton  —  he  had  stepped  back 
like  a  man  stricken,  his  hands  dropped  to  his 
sides. 

"I  —  we  are  mad !  "  she  whispered. 

"Helena!"  he  said  in  a  numbed  way;  and 
again:  "Helena!"  Then,  with  an  effort  to 
control  his  voice :  "  You  —  you  do  not  care  — 
you  do  not  love  me?  " 

"No,"  she  said  —  and  thereafter  for  a  long 
time  a  silence  held  between  them. 

Then  Thornton  spoke. 

"  Some  day  perhaps,  Helena,"  he  said,  "  you 
could  learn  to  love  me  —  for  I  would  teach  you. 
Perhaps  now  you  feel  that  your  whole  duty  lies 
here  in  this  work  to  which  you  have  so  unselfishly 
given  your  life ;  but  I  would  not  hinder  that,  only 
try  to  help  as  best  I  could.  Perhaps  I  have  been 
abrupt,  have  spoken  too  soon  —  it  is  only  a  few 
weeks  since  I  saw  you  first,  but  it  seems  as  though 
in  those  few  weeks  I  had  come  to  know  you  as 
if  I  had  known  you  all  my  life  and  — " 


FACE  VALUE  265 

But  now  she  Interrupted  him,  shaking  her  head 
in  a  sad  little  fashion. 

*  You  do  not  know  me,"  she  said.  "  Some- 
times I  think  I  do  not  know  myself.  Think! 
You  do  not  know  where  I  came  from  to  join  the 
Patriarch  here ;  you  have  no  single  shred  of  knowl- 
edge about  me;  you  do  not  know  a  single  partic- 
ular of  my  life  before  you  knew  me." 

"  I  do  not  need  to  know,"  he  answered  gravely. 
'  You  are  as  genuine  as  pure  gold  is  genuine  — 
it  is  in  your  voice,  your  smile,  your  eyes.  It  is  a 
crude  simile  perhaps,  but  one  never  asks  where 
the  pure  gold  was  dug  —  it  stands  for  itself,  for 
what  it  is,  because  it  is  what  it  is  —  pure  gold 
' —  at  its  face  value." 

The  words  seemed  to  stab  at  Helena,  con- 
demning, accusing;  and  yet,  too,  in  a  strange, 
vague  way,  they  seemed  to  bring  her  a  hope,  a 
promise  for  the  days  to  come  —  at  face  value ! 
If  she  could  live  hereafter  —  at  face  value! 

"  Listen,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  very- 
low.  "  I  do  not  know  how  to  say  what  I  must 
say  to  you.  Last  night  I  knew  that  —  that  you 
loved  me.  I  had  not  thought  of  you  like  that,  in 
that  way,  until  then,  or  —  or  I  should  have  tried 
never  to  have  let  this  hurt  come  to  you.  But  last 
night  I  knew,  and  since  then  I  have  known  that 
sooner  or  later  you  would  —  would  tell  me  of 
it."  She  stopped  for  an  instant  —  her  eyes  full 
of  tears  now.  "  And  so,"  she  went  on  presently, 
"  I  have  let  you  speak  to-night  because  it  was 
better,  it  was  even  necessary  that  I  should  do  so 


166  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

at  once  —  because  this  could  not  go  on  —  because 
you  must  go  away  and — " 

"Necessary?"  he  repeated.  "I  —  I  do  not 
understand." 

"No,"  she  said  helplessly;  "you  do  not  un- 
derstand —  and  I  —  I  cannot  explain.  Oh,  I  do 
not  know  what  to  say  to  you,  only  that  you  must 
take  what  I  say,  as  you  have  taken  me  —  at  face 
value." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  he  said  again.  "  Hel- 
ena, I  do  not  understand.  Are  you  in  trouble 
—  tell  me?" 

"  No,"  she  said. 

"  But  I  cannot  go  away  like  this !  "  he  cried 
out  suddenly.  "  I  cannot  go  and  leave  you,  Hel- 
ena. You  have  come  into  my  life  and  filled  it; 
and  I  cannot  let  you  pass  out  of  it  —  like  this  — 
without  an  effort  to  hold  what  has  come  to  mean 
everything  to  me  now.  You  may  not  love  me 
now,  but  some  day — " 

She  shook  her  head,  interrupting  him  once 
more. 

"There  can  never  be  a  'some  day/'1  she 
said.  "  Oh,  I  do  not  want  to  hurt  you  —  you,  to 
whom  I  owe  more  than  you  will  ever  know  — 
but  —  but  there  can  never  be  anything  between 
us,  and  —  and  we  are  only  making  it  harder  for 
ourselves  now  —  aren't  we?  " 

And  then  he  leaned  abruptly  toward  her. 

"Is  there  —  some  one  else?"  he  asked  in  a 
strained  voice. 

And  to  Helena  the  question  came  as  though 


FACE  .VALUE  267 

it  had  been  an  inspiration  given  him  —  for  after 
that  he  would  ask  no  more,  seek  no  more  to  un- 
derstand, for  he  was  too  big  and  strong  and  fine 
for  that;  and  even  if  it  was  hopeless  now  this 
love  that  she  had  known  for  Madison,  even  if  it 
could  never  be  again,  still  that  love  was  hers,  and 
she  could  answer  truthfully. 

'  Yes,"  she  said  beneath  her  breath'. 

For  a  moment  Thornton  neither  moved  nor 
spoke.  Then  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Miss  Vail,"  he  said  simply,  "  will  you  tell 
this  '  some  one  else  '  that  another  man  beside  him- 
self is  the  better  for  having  known  you.  Good- 
night. And  may  God  bring  you  happiness 
through  all  your  life." 

But  she  did  not  speak  —  they  were  standing 
by  the  rustic  bench  and  she  sank  down  upon  it, 
and,  with  her  head  hidden  in  one  arm  outflung 
across  the  back  of  the  seat,  was  sobbing  softly. 

And  he  stood  and  watched  her  for  a  little  space, 
his  face  grave  and  white;  then  taking  the  hand 
that  lay  listlessly  in  her  lap,  he  raised  it  to  his 
lips  —  and  turned  away. 

And  so  he  left  her  —  and  so,  because  of  this, 
he  knocked  upon  another  door  that  night,  and  all 
unwittingly  gave  to  that  "  some  one  else  "  himself 
the  message  that  he  had  asked  Helena  to  deliver. 

Madison,  pacing  his  room  like  a  caged  beast, 
his  teeth  working  upon  the  cigar  that  he  had  never 
thought  to  light,  paid  no  attention  to  the  summons 
until  it  had  been  repeated  twice;  then,  with  a 
glance  around  the  room,  his  eyes  lingering  for  a 


z66  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

at  once  —  because  this  could  not  go  on  —  because 
you  must  go  away  and — " 

"  Necessary?  "  he  repeated.  "I  —  I  do  not 
understand." 

"No,"  she  said  helplessly;  "you  do  not  un- 
derstand —  and  I  —  I  cannot  explain.  Oh,  I  do 
not  know  what  to  say  to  you,  only  that  you  must 
take  what  I  say,  as  you  have  taken  me  —  at  face 
value." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  he  said  again.  "  Hel- 
ena, I  do  not  understand.  Are  you  in  trouble 
—  tell  me?" 

"  No,"  she  said. 

"  But  I  cannot  go  away  like  this !  "  he  cried 
out  suddenly.  "  I  cannot  go  and  leave  you,  Hel- 
ena. You  have  come  into  my  life  and  filled  it; 
and  I  cannot  let  you  pass  out  of  it  —  like  this  — 
without  an  effort  to  hold  what  has  come  to  mean 
everything  to  me  now.  You  may  not  love  me 
now,  but  some  day — " 

She  shook  her  head,  interrupting  him  once 
more. 

"There  can  never  be  a  'some  day/'  she 
said.  "  Oh,  I  do  not  want  to  hurt  you  —  you,  to 
whom  I  owe  more  than  you  will  ever  know  — 
but  —  but  there  can  never  be  anything  between 
us,  and  —  and  we  are  only  making  it  harder  for 
ourselves  now  —  aren't  we?  " 

And  then  he  leaned  abruptly  toward  her. 

"Is  there  —  some  one  else?"  he  asked  in  a 
strained  voice. 

And  to  Helena  the  question  came  as  though 


FACE  VALUE  267 

it  had  been,  an  inspiration  given  him  —  for  after 
that  he  would  ask  no  more,  seek  no  more  to  un- 
derstand, for  he  was  too  big  and  strong  and  fine 
for  that;  and  even  if  it  was  hopeless  now  this 
love  that  she  had  known  for  Madison,  even  if  it 
could  never  be  again,  still  that  love  was  hers,  and 
she  could  answer  truthfully. 

'  Yes,"  she  said  beneath  her  breath'. 

For  a  moment  Thornton  neither  moved  nor 
spoke.  Then  he  held  out  his  hand. 

*'  Miss  Vail,"  he  said  simply,  "  will  you  tell 
this  *  some  one  else  '  that  another  man  beside  him- 
self is  the  better  for  having  known  you.  Good- 
night. And  may  God  bring  you  happiness 
through  all  your  life." 

But  she  did  not  speak  —  they  were  standing 
by  the  rustic  bench  and  she  sank  down  upon  it, 
and,  with  her  head  hidden  in  one  arm  outflung 
across  the  back  of  the  seat,  was  sobbing  softly. 

And  he  stood  and  watched  her  for  a  little  space, 
his  face  grave  and  white;  then  taking  the  hand 
that  lay  listlessly  in  her  lap,  he  raised  it  to  his 
lips  —  and  turned  away. 

And  so  he  left  her  —  and  so,  because  of  this, 
he  knocked  upon  another  door  that  night,  and  all 
unwittingly  gave  to  that  "  some  one  else  "  himself 
the  message  that  he  had  asked  Helena  to  deliver. 

Madison,  pacing  his  room  like  a  caged  beast, 
his  teeth  working  upon  the  cigar  that  he  had  never 
thought  to  light,  paid  no  attention  to  the  summons 
until  it  had  been  repeated  twice;  then,  with  a 
glance  around  the  room,  his  eyes  lingering  for  a 


268  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

critical  instant  upon  the  trunks,  closed  now,  the 
trays  restored  to  their  hiding  places,  he  stepped  to 
the  door,  unlocked  it,  and  flung  it  open.  And 
at  sight  of  Thornton,  mechanically,  as  second1 
nature  to  him,  outwardly,  like  a  mask,  there  came 
a  smile  upon  his  working  lips,  a  suave,  uncon- 
cerned composure  to  his  face;  while  inwardly,  in 
his  dazed,  fogged  brain  where  chaos  raged,  surged 
an  impulse  to  fling  himself  upon  the  other,  wreck 
a  mad  vengeance  upon  the  man  —  and  then  swift 
upon  the  heels  of  this  an  impulse  to  refrain,  for 
if  Helena  was  straight  why  should  he  harm 
Thornton  —  and  then  the  shuttle  again  —  why 
should  he  not  —  hadn't  Helena  said  that  she  had 
learned  what  love  was  last  night  —  and  last  night 
she  had  been  with  Thornton.  How  his  brain 
whirled !  What  had  brought  Thornton  here,  any- 
how? If  he  stayed  very  long  perhaps  he  would 
batter  Thornton  to  jelly  after  all!  Quick,  almost 
instantaneous  in  their  sequence  came  this  wild 
jumble  singing  dizzily  its  crazy  refrain  through 
his  mind  —  and  then  to  his  amazement  he  heard 
some  one  speaking  pleasantly  —  and  to  his  amaze- 
ment it  was  himself. 

"  Come  in,  Thornton.  Come  in  —  and  take  a 
chair." 

"Thanks,"  Thornton  answered;  and,  entering 
the  room,  closed  the  door  behind  him.  "No;  I 
won't  sit  down  —  I  shall  only  remain  a  moment." 

The  lamp  was  on  the  washstand,  and,  intu- 
itively again,  Madison  shifted  his  position  to 
bring  his  face  into  shadow  —  and  leaned  against 


FACE  VALUE  269 

the  foot  of  the  bed.  He  stared  at  Thornton, 
nodding  —  Thornton's  face  was  white  and  exceed- 
ingly haggard  —  rather  curious  for  Thornton  to 
look  that  way ! 

"  Madison,"  said  Thornton  abruptly,  "  I  be- 
lieve you  to  be  a  gentleman  in  the  best  sense  of 
the  word,  and  because  of  that,  and  because  of  the 
unusual  circumstances  that  first  brought  us  to- 
gether and  the  mutual  interests  that  have  since 
been  ours,  I  have  come  to  you  to-night  to  tell 
you,  first,  that  I  am  going  away  from  Needley  and 
that  I  shall  not  return  —  and  then  to  ask  a  service 
and  repose  a  trust  in  you.  You  have  said  several 
times  that  you  intended  to  remain  here  and  take 
a  personal  and  active  part  in  the  work?  " 

Madison  removed  the  chewed  cigar  end  from 
one  corner  of  his  mouth  —  and  placed  it  in  the 
other. 

"  Yes,"  said  Madison. 

"  Then  this  is  what  I  want  to  say,"  said  Thorn- 
ton seriously.  "  For  my  own  sake,  because  it 
was  my  wife's  wish,  and  for  other  reasons  as  well, 
my  interest  here,  though  I  am  going  away,  will 
be  just  as  great  as  it  has  ever  been;  and  so  I  want 
you  to  keep  me  thoroughly  posted,  and  when  the 
time  comes  that  I  can  be  of  further  material  as- 
sistance to  let  me  know.  I  impose  only  one  con- 
dition—  you  are  to  say  nothing  to  Miss  Vail 
about  it  —  you  can  make  anything  that  I  may 
do  appear  to  come  from  yourself." 

"  Say  nothing  to  Miss  Vail !  "  repeated  Madi- 
son vaguely  —  then  a  sort  of  ironic  jest  seemed  to 


270  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

take  possession  of  him :  "  But  Miss  Vail  keeps  all 
the  funds." 

"  That  is  why  I  am  asking  you  to  represent 
me,"  said  Thornton  quietly.  "  I  am  afraid  that 
she  might  have  a  natural  diffidence  about  accept- 
ing anything  more  from  me  —  I  asked  Miss  Vail 
to  marry  me  to-night,  and  she  refused." 

The  cigar  kind  of  slid  down  unnoticed  from  the 
corner  of  Madison's  mouth  —  and  he  leaned  for- 
ward, hanging  with  a  hand  behind  him  to  the 
bedpost  —  and  stared  at  Thornton. 

"  You  —  what!  "  he  gasped. 

"Yes;  I  know,"  Thornton  answered  — and 
moved  abruptly  toward  the  door.  "  Love  makes 
one's  temerity  very  great  —  doesn't  it?  I  asked 
her  to  marry  me  —  because  I  loved  her."  He 
came  back  from  the  door  and  held  out  his  hand. 
"  I've  told  you  what  I  would  tell  no  other  man, 
Madison.  You  understand  now  why  —  and 
you'll  do  this  for  me  ?  " 

What  answer  Madison  made  he  never  knew 
himself  —  he  only  knew  that  he  was  staring  at 
the  door  after  Thornton  had  gone  out,  and  that 
he  wanted  to  laugh  crazily.  Marry  Helena ! 
Thornton  had  asked  Helena  to  marry  him  because 
he  loved  her.  God,  there  was  humor  here !  His 
brain  itself  seemed  to  cackle  at  it  —  marry  Hel- 
ena! 

And  then  suddenly  there  seemed  no  humor  at 
all  —  only  black,  infamous  shame  and  condemna- 
tion —  and  he  straightened  up  from  where  he 


FACE  VALUE  271 

leaned    against    the   bedpost,    his    face   set    and1 
strained. 

"  Thornton  had  asked  Helena  to  marry  him 
because  he  loved  her  " —  the  words  came  slowly, 
haltingly,  aloud  —  and  then  he  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands.  But  he,  he  who  loved  her  too 
had  he  done! 


—  XXII  — 

THE  SHRINE 

FOR  a  little  time  Madison  stood  there  in 
his    room,    motionless,    staring    unsee- 
ingly  before   him  —  and   then,    as   one 
awakening    from    a    dream    that    had 
brought  dismay  and  a  torment  too  realistic  to  be 
thrown  from  him  on  the  instant,  his  brain  still 
a  little  blunted,  he  took  up  his  hat  mechanically, 
went  out  from  the  room,  descended  by  the  back 
stairs  to  the  rear  door  of  the  hotel,  and  took  the 
road  to  the  Patriarch's  cottage. 

And  as  he  walked  in  the  freshness  of  the  night, 
the  restless  turmoil  of  his  soul  that  since  early 
afternoon  had  brought  him  near  to  the  verge  of 
madness  itself,  that  had  robbed  him  of  sane  viril- 
ity, that  a  moment  since  in  his  room  had  suddenly 
begun  to  lift  from  him  even  as  the  leaden  clouds 
in  the  vault  above  him  now  were  scattering,  break- 
ing, and  through  the  rifts  a  moon-glint  and  the 
starlight  came,  passed  from  him  utterly  —  and  a 
strange  calm,  a  strange  joy,  a  strange  sadness  was 
upon  him  —  and  his  brain  for  the  first  time  in 
many  hours  was  rational,  keen  —  and  he  was  mas- 
ter of  himself  again  —  and  yet  master  of  himself 
no  more! 

272 


THE  SHRINE  27$ 

He  smiled  a  little  at  the  seeming  paradox  — 
smiled  a  little  wistfully.  He  was  beaten  —  by: 
the  game  —  he  had  won.  How  strange  it  was 
that  sense  of  more  than  resignation  now  —  a  sense 
that  seemed  like  one  of  thankfulness  —  a, 
sense  that  bade  him  fling  wide  his  arms  as  though 
suddenly  they  had  been  loosed  from  bondage  and 
he  was  free,  free  as  the  God-given  air  around  him. 

He  could  understand  Helena,  and  the  Flopper, 
and  Pale  Face  Harry  now.  With  them  it  had 
come  slowly,  in  a  gradual  concatenation,  a  pro- 
gression, as  it  were,  that  had  worked  upon  them, 
molding  them,  changing  them  day  by  day  —  and 
he  had  been  too  blind  to  see,  or,  seeing,  had 
measured  the  changes  only  by  a  standard  as  false 
as  all  his  life  had  been  false.  With  him  it  had 
come  in  a  crash,  unheralded,  that  had  left  him  a 
naked,  quivering,  stricken  thing  to  know  madness, 
terror  and  despair,  to  taste  of  emotions  that  had 
sickened  the  soul  itself. 

On  Madison  walked  —  along  the  road,  across 
the  little  bridge,  into  the  wagon  track  where,  un- 
der the  arched  branches,  it  was  utter  dark.  There 
was  no  one  upon  the  road  —  he  passed  no  one  — 
saw  no  one  —  he  was  alone. 

He  had  lost  Helena  —  but  he  understood  her 
now  —  understood  the  depth  of  remorse  that  she 
was  living  through,  the  terror  and  the  dread  as 
she  sought  escape,  the  fear  of  him  —  yes,  it  would 
be  fear  now  where  once  it  had  been  love!  He 
had  lost  Helena  —  that  was  the  price  he  had 
paid  —  but  he  understood  her  now,  and  he  was 


274  THE  MIRACLE  MAX 

going  to  her  to  help  her  if  he  could,  going  to  tell 
her  that  he,  too,  was  changed  —  as  she  was 
changed. 

His  hands  clenched  suddenly.  God,  the  mis- 
ery, the  hopelessness,  the  wreck  and  ruin  that  lay 
at  his  door!  And  amends  —  what  amends  could 
he  make  —  it  was  too  late  for  that !  How  clearly 
he  saw  now  —  when  it  was  too  late!  Her  life 
was  a  broken  thing,  robbed,  stripped  and  de- 
spoiled for  all  the  years  to  come.  Their  love  had 
not  been  love  —  she  had  given  it  its  name  — • 
"  passion,  vice,  lust,  sin,  degradation  and  misery 
and  shame."  And  then  love  had  come  to  her, 
into  her  life,  love  as  God  had  meant  love  to  be, 
and  she  had  learned  what  love  was  she  had  said 
—  only  that  she  might  never  know  its  fulness,  only 
that  it  might  bring  her  added  bitterness  and  added 
sorrow!  Thornton  had  asked  her  to  marry  him 
that  night —  and  she  had  refused  him  —  because 
the  past,  it  must  have  been  as  a  shuddering,  hide- 
ous phantom  that  the  past  had  risen  before  her, 
had  left  her  no  other  thing  to  do  but  turn  away. 
It  seemed  he  could  see  her  —  see  her  bury  her 
face  in  her  hands  and  — 

He  stopped  short  in  his  walk.  Was  he 
changed  so  much  as  this !  Did  he  care  so  much 
that  it  was  her  happiness  —  even  with  another  — 
that  counted  most !  Yes ;  it  was  true  —  he  wras 
changed  indeed.  And  the  change  had  brought 
him  too,  it  seemed,  to  learn  what  love  was  —  too 
late. 

He  went  forward  again  —  a  little  more  slowly 


THE  SHRINE 

now;  a  sadness  upon  him,  but,  through  the  sad- 
ness, an  uplift  from  that  new  sense  of  freedom 
that  was  as  a  balm,  soothing  him  in  the  most 
curious  way.  His  had  been  a  rude  awakening  — 
mind  and  body  and  soul  had  been  torn  asunder; 
but  he  knew  now,  as  he  recalled  the  hours  just 
past  when  he  had  looked  on  fear,  when  the  gamut 
of  human  passion  had  raged  over  him,  when  he 
had  stood  staggered  and  appalled  before,  yes,  be- 
fore his  God,  that  he  had  come  forth  a  new  man. 
And  how  strange  had  been  the  ending,  how 
strange  and  simple,  and  yet  how  significant,  typi- 
fying the  broad,  clean  outlook  on  life,  bringing 
coherency  to  his  tottering  mind,  had  been  those 
words  of  Thornton's — "because  he  loved  her." 

He  had  reached  the  end  of  the  wagon  track 
now,  and  he  walked  across  the  lawn,  his  steps 
noiseless  on  the  velvet  sward,  and  passed  between 
the  maples;  and  the  moon  gleam  —  for  the  flying 
clouds,  rear-guard  of  the  routed  storm,  were  flung 
wide  apart,  dispersed  —  fell  upon  a  coiled  and 
huddled  little  figure  all  in  white,  that  was  quite 
still  and  motionless  upon  the  rustic  seat  beside 
the  porch. 

She  did  not  see  him,  did  not  hear  him,  until  he 
stood  before  her  and  called  her  name. 

"  Helena !  "  he  said  unsteadily.     "  Helena  !  " 

She  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  him;  and 
then  she  rose  from  the  bench,  and,  still  holding 
to  it  by  one  hand,  drew  back  a  little.  There  was 
no  outcry,  no  startled  action.  Her  dark  eyes 
played  questioningly  upon  him  —  and  he  could 


THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

sec  that  they  were  wet  with  tears,  and  that  the 
face  from  out  of  which  they  looked  was  very 
white. 

"Why  have  you  come  back  here  to-night?" 
she  asked  in  a  low  tone;  and  then,  suddenly,  a 
fear,  a  terror  in  her  voice,  as  the  Flopper's  warn- 
ing flashed  upon  her:  ''Thornton  —  you  have 
seen  Thornton?  " 

'  Yes,"  he  said,  surprised  a  little  that  she 
should  know;  "  I  saw  Thornton  a  few  minutes 
ago." 

She  came  toward  him  now  and  clutched  his 
arm. 

'  What  have  you  done  ? "  she  cried  tensely. 
"  Answer  me  1  You  —  you  met  him  on  your  way 
here?" 

It  was  a  moment  before  Madison  replied.  He 
had  schooled  himself  of  course  for  more  than  this, 
yet  the  words  hurt  —  that  was  why  she  had  asked 
for  Thornton  —  she  was  afraid  that  he  had 
harmed  the  man. 

"  No,"  he  said;  "  I  did  not  meet  him.  I  think 
you  must  have  been  longer  here  on  that  bench 
than  you  imagined  —  haven't  you  ?  He  came  to 
my  room." 

"Your  room!     What  for?    Tell  me!" 

Madison  smiled  with  grave  whimsicality. 

''  To  call  me  a  gentleman  and  repose  a  trust." 

She  stepped  back  again,  uncertainly. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  are  talking  about," 
she  said  in  a  strained  way.  "  And  you  are  talk- 
ing very  strangely." 


THE  SHRINE  277- 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  Everything  is  strange  to- 
night. It  is  like  a  new  world,  and  —  and  I  have 
not  found  my  way  —  yet." 

She  drew  back  still  further. 

"  Are  you  mad?  "  she  whispered. 

"No,"  he  answered.  "Not  now  —  that  is 
past." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  little  time;  and,  her 
hands  joined  before  her,  her  fingers  locked  and 
interlocked  nervously. 

"  And —  and  Thornton?  "  she  asked,  at  last. 

"It  was  a  trust,"  said  Madison  slowly;  "but 
it  was  betrayed  before  it  was  given.  He  did  not 
know  —  the  game.  He  did  not  know  what  was 
between  —  you  and  me." 

"No,"  she  said  —  and  the  word  came  almost 
inaudibly. 

"  And  so,"  he  said,  "  I  will  tell  you,  for  it 
cannot  matter  now  in  any  case.  He  told  me  that 
he  had  asked  you  to  marry  him  to-night  —*<•  and 
that  you  had  refused." 

Madison  paused,  and  swept  his  hand  across  his 
forehead  —  his  voice  somehow  had  suddenly 
grown  hoarse,  beyond  control. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  —  and  reached  again  for  the 
back  of  the  bench,  supporting  herself  against  it. 

"  He  is  going  away,"  Madison  continued;  "  and 
he  is  to  send  more  money  here  for  the  '  cause ' — 
when  I  ask  for  it  —  only  you  are  not  to  know, 
because  you  might  be  diffident  about  taking  it  after 
refusing  him." 

She  stared  at  him  numbly  —  there  was  no  sar- 


278  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

•casm  in  his  words;  in  his  tones  only  a  sort  of 
dreary  monotony.  She  shivered  a  little  —  how 
cold  it  seemed !  She  did  not  quite  grasp  his  words 

—  and  yet  she  shrank  from  them.     And  then  her 
very  soul  seemed  to  cry  out  against  them,  to  pit  it- 
•self  against  their  meaning,  as  their  meaning  surged 
upon  her.     And  unconsciously  she  drew  herself 
up,  and  the  whiteness  of  her  face  fled  before  a 
rush  of  color. 

"  Oh,  the  shame  of  it!  "  she  burst  out.  "  The 
bitter  shame  of  it!  You  shall  not  touch  the 
money  —  do  you  hear!  You  shall  not  touch  itl 
I  —  I  thought  that  you  had  understood  this  after- 
noon. I  am  glad  then  that  you  have  come  to- 
night —  if  I  must  say  more  to  make  you  under- 
stand. This  is  the  end!  I  do  not  care  what 
happens  —  the  little  I  can  do  now  to  atone  for 
what  I  have  done,  I  am  going  to  do.  The  game 
is  at  an  end  —  you  shall  not  touch  another  cent 

—  and  everything  that  we  have  taken  goes  back 
to  those  whom  we  have  worse  than  robbed  it 
from!     You  hear  —  you  understand!     I  will  cry 
it  out  in  the  town  street  if  there  is  no  other  way 

—  but  it  shall  stop  —  it  shall  stop  to-night" — 
she  was  panting,  breathless,  the  little  figure  erect, 
outraged,    quivering  —  and    then    suddenly    the 
shoulders  seemed  to  droop,  the  lips  to  tremble, 
and  she  was  on  her  knees  upon  the  grass  beside  the 
bench,  and  sobbing  as  a  child. 

"  Helena !  "  Madison  said  hoarsely.  "  Hel- 
ena !  Listen !  That  is  what  I  came  for  to-night 

—  to  find  a  way  out  for  you,  for  us  all,  if  I  can." 


THE  SHRINE  279 

The  passionate  outburst  passed — -and  she 
was  on  her  feet  again,  facing  him. 

"You  are  clever — iclever!  "  she  cried  fiercely. 
"  But  you  shall  not  play  with  me  —  you  shall  not 
trick  me  —  I  meant  every  word  I  said!  " 

But  now  Madison  made  no  answer.  The 
moonlight  bathed  them  both  in  its  clear,  white 
radiance;  and  touched  the  sward,  shading  it  to 
softest  green;  and  the  trees  limned  out  like  fairy 
things  against  the  night;  and  the  calm  light  flooded 
the  little  cottage  with  its  hidden  walls  where  the 
ivy  and  the  creepers  grew,  and  lingered  over  the 
trellises  to  drink  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  that 
peeped  out  from  their  leafy  beds.  And  upon 
Madison's  face  crept  slowly  the  anguish  that  was 
in  his  soul  —  until  it  was  mirrored  there  —  until 
unconsciously  it  answered  her  where  words  would 
have  been  useless  things.  Like  some  white-robed, 
sorrowing  angel,  she  seemed,  as  she  stood  there 
before  him  —  the  brown  eyes  full  of  shadow, 
troubled;  the  sweet  face  tear-splashed;  the  little 
figure  in  its  simple  muslin  frock,  pitiful  in  its 
brave  defiance.  And  pure  —  just  God,  how  pure 
she  looked !  —  the  brow  stainless  white  under  the 
,mass  of  dark,  coiled  hair;  the  perfect  throat  of 
ivory.  And  —  and  the  misery  that  was  in  every 
feature  of  her  face,  in  every  line  of  her  poise  — 
and  he  had  brought  her  that  —  he  had  brought 
her  to  that  —  and  now  when  he  loved  her  as 
he  might  have  loved  her  once  and  known  her 
love  in  return,  when  his  heart  cried  out  for  her, 
when  she  was  all  in  life  he  cared  for,  she  was 


2 So  THE  MIRACLJi  MAN 

gone  from  him,  out  of  his  life,  and  between  them 
was  a  barrier  he  could  never  pass  —  a  barrier  of 
his  own  raising. 

And  so  he  made  no  answer,  for  indeed  he  had 
not  heard  her;  but  she  was  coming  toward  him 
now,  her  hands  outstretched  in  a  wondering  way, 
wistfully,  pleadingly,  as  though  to  hold  back  a 
refutation  that  would  change  the  dawning  light 
upon  her  face  to  dismay  and  grief  again. 

"  It  —  it  is  true,"  she  faltered.  "  It  has  come 
to  you  too  —  this  change,  this  new  life  that  has 
come  to  me.  It  is  true  —  I  can  see  it  in  your 
face." 

'  Yes;  it  is  true,"  he  answered,  in  a  low  voice. 

u  Thank  God!  "  she  whispered  —  and  hid  her 
face  in  her  hands  —  and  presently  he  heard  her 
sob  again. 

A  tiny  cloud  edged  the  moon,  and  the  light 
faded,  and  it  grew  dark,  and  the  darkness  hid  her; 
then  softly,  timidly  almost  it  seemed,  the  radiance 
came  creeping  through  the  branches  overhead 
again  —  and  then  he  spoke. 

"  Helena,"  he  said,  steadying  his  voice  with 
an  effort,  "  you  spoke  of  atonement  a  little  while 
ago;  but  there  is  no  atonement  that  I  can  make 
to  you  — '  nothing  that  I  can  do  to  change  what 
I  would  give  my  soul  to  change.  I  know  what 
it  meant  to  you  to  send  Thornton  away  to-night, 
for  I  love  you  now  as  you  love  him  —  I  know 
why  you  did  it,  and — " 

She  was  staring  at  him  a  little  wildly  —  her 
hands  pressed  against  her  cheeks. 


THE  SHRINE  281 

"Love  —  Thornton,"  she  repeated  in  a  sort 
of  wondering  way,  a  long  pause  between  the 
words. 

'Yes,"  he  said  gently;  "I  know.  Have  you 
forgotten  what  you  told  me  this  afternoon?  — 
that  you  had  learned  —  last  night  —  what  love 
was." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  do  not  love  Thornton,"  she  said  in  a  mono- 
tone. "  And  yet  it  is  true  that  through  him  I 
learned  what  love  was,  what  it  could  be  —  don't 
you  understand?  " 

Understand!  No;  it  seemed  that  he  could 
never  understand!  She  did  not  love  Thornton! 
And  then,  as  some  fiery  cordial,  the  words  seemed 
to  whip  through  his  veins,  quickening  the  beat  of 
his  heart  into  wild,  tumultuous  throbbing.  Yes, 
yes,  he  could  understand  —  it  was  true  —  true  — 
she  did  not  love  Thornton. 

"Helena!"  he  cried  —  and  stretched  out  his 
arms  to  her.  "  I  thought,  oh,  God,  I  thought 
that  I  had  lost  you  —  Helena  I  " 

But  she  did  not  move. 

"  What  does  it  matter  to  you  whether  I 
love  Thornton  or  not?  "  she  said  dully.  "  Does 
it  change  anything  where  you  and  I  are  con- 
cerned —  does  it  change  what  I  told  you  this 
afternoon  —  that  I  would  not  go  back  to 
that." 

"  To  that !  Ah,  no !  " —  his  voice  rang  dom- 
inant, vibrant,  triumphant  now.  "  Helena,  don't 
you  understand?  We  are  to  begin  life  again  — 


282  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

in  a  new  way,  the  true  way,  the  only  way.  Don't 
you  see  —  I  love  you !  " 

Still  she  did  not  move  —  but  there  was  a  great 
whiteness  in  her  face,  and  in  the  whiteness  a  great 
light. 

"You  mean?" — her  lips  scarcely  seemed  to 
form  the  words. 

"  Yes!  "  he  cried.  "  Yes;  to  make  a  home  for 
you,  to  marry  you  if  only  you  love  me  still,  to 
live  in  God's  own  sight  and  hold  you  as  a  sacred 
gift  —  Helena !  Helena !  " —  his  arms  went  out 
to  her  again,  and  the  yearning  in  his  soul  was  in 
his  voice  —  to  crush  her  to  him,  to  hold  her  in 
his  arms,  and  hold  her  there  where  none  should 
take  her  from  him,  to  shield  and  guard  her 
through  the  years  to  come,  to  live  with  her  a  life 
that  seemed  to  break  now  in  a  vista  of  gladness, 
of  glory,  as  the  day-dawn  breaks  with  its  golden 
rays  of  God-given  promise  —  the  new  life,  per- 
fect and  pure  and  innocent  —  because  he  loved 
'her.  "  Helena !  Speak  to  me.  Tell  me  that 
it  is  not  too  late  —  tell  me  that  you  love  me 
too." 

And  then  her  eyes  were  raised  to  his,  and  they 
were  wet  —  but  there  was  love-light  and  a  won- 
drous happiness  shining  through  the  tears. 

"Helena!"  he  murmured  brokenly  —  and 
swept  her  into  his  arms  —  and  kissed  the  eyelids, 
lowered  now,  the  hair,  the  white  brow,  the  lips 
—  kissed  her,  and  held  her  there,  her  clinging 
arms  about  his  neck,  her  face  half  hidden  on  his 
shoulder. 


THE  SHRINK  283 

And  so  for  a  space  they  stood  there  —  and 
there  were  no  words  to  say,  only  the  song  in  their 
hearts  in  deathless  melody  —  but  after  a  little 
time  he  held  her  from  him,  and  lifted  up  her  face 
that  he  might  look  his  fill  upon  it. 

"  Helena,"  he  said,  "  I  cannot  understand  it 
all  yet  —  it  is  as  though  it  were  born  out  of  th* 
sin  and  the  darkness  and  the  blackness  of  what  is 
gone  —  as  though  here  at  this  Shrine  that  we 
created  in  mockery  and  crime  it  was  meant  that 
you  and  I  should  save  each  other  for  each  other. 
And  yet  this  Shrine  as  we  have  made  it  is  a  thing 
of  guilt,  and  it  has  brought  us  all,  you  and  I,  and 
Harry,  and  the  Flopper  to  a  new  life." 

She  lay  still  for  a  moment  in  his  arms  —  then 
her  hand  crept  up  and  touched  his  forehead  and 
smoothed  back  his  hair. 

"  I  do  not  quite  know  how  to  say  it,"  she  said 
a  little  timidly.  "  When  you  went  away  this  aft* 
ernoon,  the  Patriarch  took  me  back  into  his  room, 
and  —  and  I  knelt  at  his  knees  —  and  after  a 
little  while  my  mind  seemed  very  calm  and  quiet 
—  do  you  know  what  I  mean  ?  And  I  tried  to 
think  things  out  —  and  understand.  And  it 
seemed  to  come  to  me  that  there  was  a  shrine 
everywhere  if  we  would  only  look  for  it  —  that 
God  has  put  a  shrine  in  every  heart,  only  we  are 
so  blind  —  that  every  one  can  make  their  own 
surroundings  beautiful  and  good  and  true,  no  mat- 
ter where  they  are,  or  how  poor,  or  how  rich  — 
and  if  they  live  like  that  they  must  be  good  and 
true  themselves." 


284  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"Yes,"  he  said  slowly;  then,  after  a  moment: 
"  And  faith  too  is  very  much  like  that." 

"  Only  some  need  a  sign,"  she  said. 

There  was  silence  again,  while  her  hand  crept 
over  his  face  and  back  to  his  forehead  to  smooth 
his  hair  once  more  —  and  then  very  gently  she 
slipped  out  of  his  arms. 

"  What  are  we  to  do  about  —  about  everything 
here?"  she  asked  soberly.  "We  are  forgetting 
that  in  our  own  happiness.  How  are  we  going 
to  return  the  money  that  we  have  taken?" 

"  I  don't  know  yet,"  he  answered.  "  I  haven't 
thought  much  about  it  —  but  we'll  manage  some- 
how." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I've  thought  a  great  deal  about  it  since  yes- 
terday —  and  I'm  not  so  sure  it  is  to  be  '  managed 
somehow  ' —  and  the  more  I've  thought  the  more 
tangled  and  complicated  it  has  become." 

"  Well,  we'll  untangle  it  to-morrow,"  said 
Madison,  with  a  smile,  "and — " 

"  No  " —  she  touched  his  sleeve.  "  To-night. 
Let  us  do  it  now  —  to-night.  I  should  be  so 
happy  then." 

He  smiled  at  her  again,  and  drew  her  to  him. 

"  But  we  ought  to  have  Pale  Face  and  the 
Flopper  too,  don't  you  think  so?  "  he  said. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said;  "  and  so  we  will.  The 
Flopper  is  here,  and  we  can  send  him  for  Harry. 
It's  early  yet  —  not  ten  o'clock." 

"All  right,"  said  Madison;  "if  you  wish  it. 
We'll  go  in  then  and  get  the  Flopper." 


THE  SHRINE  285 

And  so  they  walked  to  the  cottage  door,  and 
into  the  porch  —  but  in  the  porch  Madison  held 
her  for  a  moment,  and  lifted  up  her  face  again 
and  looked  into  her  eyes. 

"My  —  wife,"  he  whispered  —  and  took  her 
in  his  arms. 


—  XXIII  — 

THE  WAY  OUT 

STRANGE  scene  indeed!    Strange  antith* 
esis  to  that  other  night  when  these  four 
were  gathered  in  that  crime-reeked,  sor- 
did room   at   the   Roost  —  where   Pale 
Face    Harry,    gaunt,    emaciated,    coughed,    and, 
trembling,  plunged  a  morphine  needle  in  his  arm; 
where   the    Flopper,    a   wretched   tatterdemalion 
from  the  gutter,  licked  greedy  lips  and  gloated 
in  his  rascality;  where  Helena,  flushed- faced,  in- 
haled her  interminable  cigarettes  and  dangled  her 
legs  from  the  table  edge;  where  Madison,  suave, 
flippant,  so  certain  of  his  own  infallibility,  glory- 
ing in  his  crooked  masterpiece,  laid  the  tribute 
to  genius  at  his  own  feet! 

Strange  scene!  Strange  antithesis  indeed!  It 
was  quiet  here  —  very  still  —  only  the  distant, 
muffled  boom  of  the  pounding  surf.  And  the 
shrine-room,  for  the  first  time  since  its  creation, 
was  locked  against  the  night.  It  lay  now  in 
shadow  from  the  single  lamp  upon  the  table  — 
and  the  light,  where  it  fell  in  a  shortened  circle, 
for  the  lamp  itself  had  a  little  green  paper  shade, 
was  soft,  subdued  and  mellow. 

Where  he  had  been  wont  to  sit  in  the  days 
gone  by,  the  Patriarch  sat  now  in  his  armchair 

286 


THE  WAY  OUT  287 

by  the  empty  fireplace  —  in  the  shadow  —  his 
head  turned  in  his  strange,  listening,  attentive  way 
toward  the  table  —  toward  the  four  who  were 
grouped  around  it.  There  had  been  no  one  to 
stay  with  him  in  his  own  room,  and  so  Helena 
had  brought  him  there  —  to  play  his  silent  part. 

At  the  table,  Pale  Face  Harry,  bronzed  and 
rugged,  clear-eyed,  a  robust  figure  from  his  clean 
living,  his  months  of  the  out-of-doors,  traced  the 
grain  of  the  wood  on  the  table  mechanically  with 
his  finger  nail,  his  face  sober,  perplexed;  while  the 
Flopper,  clear-eyed  too,  his  face  almost  a  hand- 
some one  in  its  bright  alertness,  now  that  it  had 
rounded  out  and  the  hard,  premature  lines  were 
gone,  mirrored  Pale  Face  Harry's  perturbed  ex- 
pression, his  eyes  fixed  anxiously  on  Madison  op- 
posite him;  and  Helena,  sitting  beside  Madison, 
was  very  quiet,  her  forehead  wrinkled  and  pursed 
up  into  little  furrows,  the  brown  eyes  with  a  hint 
of  dismay  and  consternation  lurking  in  their 
depths,  one  hand  stretched  out  to  lay  quite  un- 
consciously on  Madison's  sleeve  —  and  from  the 
sleeve  to  steal  occasionally  into  Madison's  hand. 

Madison,  his  lips  tight,  pushed  back  his  chair 
suddenly  —  they  had  been  sitting  there  an  hour. 

"  You  were  right,  Helena,"  he  said,  with  a 
nervous  laugh.  "  The  more  you  try  to  figure  it 
out  the  worse  it  gets." 

"  Aw,  say,  Doc,"  pleaded  the  Flopper  desper- 
ately, "  don't  youse  give  it  up  —  youse  have  got 
de  head  —  youse  ain't  never  left  us  in  a  hole 
yet." 


288  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

Madison  looked  at  him,  and  smiled  mirthlessly. 

"My  head!"  he  exclaimed  bitterly.  "I  got 
you  into  this,  all  of  you  —  but  it  will  take  more 
than  my  head  to  get  you  out.  If  I  could  stand  for 
it  myself,  I'd  do  it  —  but  I  can't  without  dragging 
you  in  too  —  we're  too  intimately  mixed  up.  If 
I  said  it  was  a  deal  of  mine  —  they'd  ask  where 
Helena  came  from  —  they'd  ask  where  you  came 
from,  Flopper.  We're  beaten  —  beaten  every 
way  we  turn.  The  game  has  got  us  —  we  haven't 
a  move.  We  played  it  to  the  limit,  the  slickest 
swindle  that  was  ever  worked,  and  it  worked  till 
there's  more  money  than  I've  tried  to  count.  And 
then  it  changed  us  from  thieves,  from  —  from 
anything  you  like  —  and  now  that  we  want  to  quit, 
now  that  we  want  a  chance  to  make  good,  it's 
got  us  in  its  grip  and  we  can't  get  away."  He 
flirted  a  bead  of  moisture  from  his  forehead. 
"  My  God,  I  don't  know  what  to  do  1  "  he  mut- 
tered hoarsely.  "  It  was  easy  enough  to  talk 
about  stopping  this  thing,  about  returning  the 
money  —  but  I  can't  see  the  way  out." 

No  one  answered  him  —  all  were  silent  —  as 
silent  as  the  mute  and  venerable  figure  that  sat, 
listening  attentively  it  seemed,  in  the  armchair  by 
the  fireplace. 

Madison  turned  abruptly  after  a  moment  to 
Pale  Face  Harry. 

"  You,  Harry,"  he  said,  laying  a  hand  on  the 
other's  shoulder,  "  you're  the  only  one  of  the 
four  that  can  walk  out  of  it  —  you  don't  show 
in  the  center  of  the  stage  —  you  go.  You  said 


THE  WAY  OUT  289 

the  old  folks  would  cry  over  you  —  twenty  years 
is  a  long  time  to  stay  away  from  the  old  folks  — 
I  —  I  never  knew  mine.  You  go  on  back  to  the 
little  farm  out  there  in  the  West  where  you  said 
you'd  like  to  go,  and  —  and  give  the  old  people 
'a  hand  for  the  years  they've  got  left." 

Pale  Face  Harry  shook  his  head. 

"  God  knows  I'd  like  to,"  he  said,  choking  a 
little ;  "  that's  what  I  counted  on.  God  knows 
I'd  like  to  go  out  there  and  lead  a  decent  life  — 
but  I  don't  go  that  way  —  I  don't  crawl  out  and 
leave  you  —  what's  coming  to  you  is  coming  to 


me." 


"  That  won't  help  us  any,  Harry,"  said  Madi- 
son softly,  and  his  hand  tightened  in  an  eloquent 
pressure  on  Pale  Face  Harry's  shoulder.  '  You 
go  —  and  God  bless  you !  " 

Again  Pale  Face  Harry  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  I  stick.  If  the  game's  got 
you,  it's  got  me  too  —  to  the  limit.  There's  no 
use  talking  about  that." 

The  Flopper  licked  his  lips  miserably. 

"Swipe   me!"   he   mumbled.     "Hell   wasn't 

!  never  like  dis !     Me  an'  Mamie  we've  got  it  fixed, 

1  an'  her  old  man  says  he'll  take  me  inter  de  store. 

Say,    Doc,    say  —  ain't   dere    a    chanst   ter   live 

straight  now  we  wants  ter?  " 

But  Madison  did  not  hear  the  Flopper  save  in 
a  vague,  inconsequential  way  —  he  was  looking  at 
Helena.  She  had  drooped  forward  a  little  over 
the  table,  her  chin  in  her  hands,  her  lips  quivering 
• —  and  a  white  misery  in  her  face  seemed  to  bring 


290  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

a  chill,  a  numbness  to  his  heart.  His  hands 
clenched,  and  he  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the 
room. 

How  buoyantly  he  had  tackled  the  problem  — 
buoyant  in  his  own  emancipation,  buoyant  in  his 
love,  in  the  future  full  of  dreams,  full  of  inspira- 
tion, full  of  the  new  life  that  Helena  and  he 
would  live  together!  How  confidently  he  had 
settled  himself  to  undo  in  a  moment  the  work  of 
months,  to  outline  a  mere  matter  of  detail,  with 
never  a  thought  that  he  was  face  to  face  with  a 
problem  that  he  could  never  solve  —  that  brought 
him  to  the  realization  that  the  game,  not  he,  was 
the  master  still,  iron-handed,  implacable  —  that 
though  the  mental  chains  were  loosed  it  was  but 
as  if,  in  ironic  justice,  in  grim  punishment,  only 
that  he  might  look,  clear-visioned,  upon  the  ig- 
nominy of  the  physical  shackles  he  himself  had 
forged  and  fashioned  so  readily,  whose  breaking 
now  was  beyond  his  strength. 

He  had  done  his  work  well!  In  the  first  few 
moments,  an  hour  ago,  when  he  had  begun  to 
consider  the  problem,  as  seeming  difficulties  arose, 
he  had  turned  coolly  from  one  alternative  to  an- 
other. And  then  slowly  a  sickening  sense  of  the 
truth  had  begun  to  dawn  upon  him  —  and  like  a 
man  lost  in  a  great  forest,  peril  around  him, 
he  had  plunged  then  desperately  in  this  direction 
and  in  that,  as  a  glimmering  point  of  light  here  or 
there  had  seemed  to  promise  an  avenue  of  escape 
—  only  to  find  it  vanish  at  almost  the  first  step, 
the  way  closed  as  by  some  invisible,  remorseless 


THE  WAY  OUT  291 

power.  No,  not  invisible  —  it  seemed  to  take 
the  form  of  the  Patriarch  —  for  at  every  turn  the 
majestic  figure  stood  and  would  not  let  him  pass. 

Madison's  face  was  gray  now  as  he  walked  up 
and  down  the  room  —  there  was  his  own  revul- 
sion, his  abhorrence  at  the  part  he  had  played,  a 
frantic,  honorable  eagerness  to  be  rid  of  it;  there 
were  these  others  too  who  looked  to  him,  the 
Flopper  and  Pale  Face  Harry;  and  there  was  — 
Helena !  He  did  not  dare  to  look  at  the  misery 
in  her  face  again  —  he  was  unmanned  enough 
now. 

And  then  Helena  spoke. 

"It  —  it  seems,"  she  said,  in  a  low  broken 
way,  "  as  if —  as  if  God  did  not  want  to  pardon 
us  —  as  if  our  repentance  had  come  too  late,  and 
that  there  was  no  Eleventh  Hour  for  us."  Then, 
in  passionate  pleading,  facing  Madison:  "God 
cannot  mean  that  —  it  is  we  who  cannot  see. 
There  is  some  way  out  —  there  must  be  —  there 
must  be." 

"  It  begins  and  ends  with  the  Patriarch,"  said 
Madison  monotonously.  "  We  can't  sacrifice 
him  —  can  we!  What's  the  use  of  going  over  it 
again?  It  all  comes  back  to  the  same  point  — 
the  Patriarch." 

"  Yes,  yes;  I  know,  I  know,"  she  said  piteously. 
"  But  think,  Doc  —  think!  See  now,  we  just 
send  back  all  the  money  and  jewels  —  we  know  to 
whom  they  belong." 

"Well,  what  reason  do  we  give?"  Madison 
said  heavily.  "  The  Patriarch  is  alive  and  well. 


292  THE  MIRACLE  MAN! 

The  immediate  corollary  is  that  from  the  moment 
we  do  that,  to-morrow  morning  for  instance,  every 
gift,  every  offering  here  is  suddenly  refused. 
What  reason  do  we  give?  If  it  were  only  the 
donors  who  were  to  be  considered  it  might  be 
done.  It's  human  nature  that  ninety-nine  out  of 
every  hundred  of  them  " —  his  voice  rose  a  little 
bitterly  — "  would  probably  be  only  too  glad  to  get 
their  money  back — and  the  mere  statement  that 
you,  as  the  Patriarch's  grand-niece,  his  only  rela- 
tive, on  mature  thought  did  not  consider  the  proj- 
ect as  planned  advisable  might  suffice.  But  this 
thing  goes  beyond  that,  beyond  even  the  remaining 
few  who  are  earnestly  interested  and  would  cause 
us  trouble  —  it  is  worldwide  in  its  publicity ! 
Every  newspaper  in  the  land  would  snatch  at  it  for 
a  headline,  and  ask  —  why?  And  they  would  not 
be  content  with  simply  asking  why  —  this  thing 
is  too  big  for  that  —  too  much  before  the  people's 
eyes  —  too  good  '  copy.'  They'd  start  in  to  find 
out  —  and  the  result  is  inevitable.  Our  safety  so 
far  has  lain  in  the  fact  that  there  has  been  no  sus- 
picion aroused;  but  snooping  around  a  bank  vault 
at  midnight  with  a  mask  on  and  a  bull's-eye  lan- 
tern fades  to  a  whisper  as  a  suspicion-arouser 
compared  with  anybody  willingly  coughing  up  a 
bunch  of  money  once  they've  got  their  claws  on  it 
—  and  a  yellow  journal,  let  alone  an  army  corps 
of  them,  on  the  scent  of  a  possible  sensation  has 
all  the  detective  bureaus  in  the  country  pinned  to 
the  ropes  —  they'd  have  us  uncovered  quicker 
than  I  like  to  think  about  it  —  and  that  means  — " 


THE  WAY  OUT  293 

He  stopped,  and  with  a  hurried  motion  carried 
his  hands  across  his  eyes  —  Helena,  pure  as  one 
of  God's  own  angels  now,  to  come  to  that,  to  come 
to  — 

It  was  the  Flopper  who  completed  the  sentence. 

"  Ten  spaces  up  de  river,"  said  the  Flopper, 
and  shivered,  and  his  tongue  sought  his  lips ;  "  or 
mabbe  —  mabbe  twenty." 

Pale  Face  Harry  stirred  uneasily. 

"  There's  the  other  way,"  he  said  without  look- 
ing up,  his  eyes  on  his  finger  nail  that  traced  the 
grain  of  the  wood  again.  "  Get  the  money  and 
the  sparklers  all  done  up  and  addressed  to  the 
ones  they  came  from,  send  'em  off  in  a  bunch  to 
Thornton  —  and  we  fly  the  coop  before  he  gets 
them,  disappear,  fade  away  —  and  take  our 
chances  of  getting  caught." 

"  An'  den  it's  all  off  wid  me  an'  Mamie  " — 
the  Flopper's  face  grew  hard.  "  Nix  on  dat  I 
Cat  don't  go !  " 

"  We  cannot  do  that,  Harry,"  said  Helena,  in 
a  tired  voice.  "  There  is  —  the  Patriarch." 

"  Yes,"  said  Madison,  beginning  his  stride  up 
and  down  the  room  again.  "  After  all,  whether 
we  could  give  back  the  money  without  being 
caught,  or  whether  we  couldn't,  is  not  the  vital 
thing;  there  is  —  the  Patriarch." 

Helena's  eyes  were  on  the  silent  figure  in  the 
shadows  by  the  fireplace. 

"If  —  if  it  were  not  for  him,"  she  said,  "I 
think  that  perhaps  —  perhaps  I  might  be  brave 
enough  to  confess  it  all,  and  —  and  not  try  to  es- 


294  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

cape  from  the  punishment  that  I  deserve.  But  he 
would  know  —  he  cannot  see,  nor  hear,  nor  speak, 
but  he  would  know  —  as  he  seems  so  strangely, 
so  wonderfully,  so  supernaturally  to  know  and 
understand  everything.  And,  oh,  he  means  so 
much  to  me,  to  us  all,  for  it  is  he,  more  than  any 
one  else,  who  has  saved  us  from  —  from  what  we 
were.  And  he  loves  us.  It  would  shatter  his 
faith,  ruin  all  that  his  life  has  meant  to  him,  and 

—  and  we  cannot  bring  him  grief  and  sorrow  like 
that.     Oh,  what  can  we  do !     What  can  we  do ! 
We  cannot  stop  —  and  we  cannot  go  on !     We 
cannot  stay  here  even  if  we  returned  the  money 
successfully,  and  we  cannot  stay  here  if  we  kept  it 
as  it  is;  for  things  would  still  have  to  go  on  as 
they  are,  even  if  we  didn't  mean  to  steal  any  more, 
no  matter  what  we  might  say  or  do,  for  it's  be- 
yond our  control  now,  and  to  stay  means  that  we 
should  still  have  to  live  and  lead  our  double  lives, 
still  have  to  practise  hypocrisy  and  deceit,  and  — 
and   I   cannot  —  we   cannot   do   that   any   more. 
And  the  only  way  to  get  away  from  it  all  is  to  run 
away  —  and  we  can't  do  that,  either!     There  is 

—  the    Patriarch.     We    cannot    leave    him  —  to 
break  his  heart  —  with  none  he  loves  to  care  for 
him.     We  can't  do  that.     He  is  a  very  old,  old 
man,  and  —  and  I  think  he  has  been  happy  with 
us,  and  —  and  we  must  make  him  happy  always 
as  long  as  he  lives.     We  cannot  go  away  and  leave 
him.     We    can't    do    that."     Then,    in    a    heart- 
broken,  despairing  cry :      '  We  can't  do  —  any- 
thing! " 


THE  WAY  OUT  295 

No  one  answered  her.  She  had  begged  Mad- 
ison to  go  over  it  all  again  —  and  she  had  summed 
it  up  herself.  There  was  —  the  Patriarch. 

There  was  utter  silence  in  the  room  now,  save 
only  for  that  low,  solemn  boom  of  distant  surf  — 
for  Madison  had  stopped  his  nervous  pacing  up 
and  down,  and  stood  now  by  the  Patriarch's  arm- 
chair gazing  into  the  fireplace. 

The  minutes  passed,  and  the  silence  in  that  dim, 
shadowed  room  grew  tense  —  and  tenser  still  — — 
until  the  very  shadows  themselves,  as  the  lamp 
flickered  now  and  then,  seemed  to  creep  and  shift 
and  readjust  themselves  in  stealth.  No  sound  — 
no  movement  —  utter  stillness  —  only,  from  with- 
out, the  mourning  of  the  surf,  like  a  dirge  now. 

And  then,  with  a  sudden  sob,  Helena  flung  out 
her  arms  across  the  table  toward  the  Patriarch. 

"  Oh,  if  he  could  only  speak!  "  she  cried  piti- 
fully. "  If  he  could  only  speak  —  he  would  show 
us  the  way  out." 

The  words  seemed  to  come  to  Madison  as  an 
added  pang.  He  turned  his  eyes  instinctively 
from  the  fireplace  to  the  Patriarch  beside  him  — — 
and  then,  a  moment,  as  a  man  stricken,  he  stood 
there  —  and  then  reaching  quickly  for  the  lamp 
from  the  table  he  held  it  up,  and  leaned  forward 
toward  the  figure  in  the  chair. 

Helena,  startled  at  the  act,  rose  almost  uncon- 
sciously to  her  feet,  her  hands  holding  tightly  to 
the  table  edge  —  looking  at  Madison,  looking  at 
the  silent  form  where  Pale  Face  Harry,  where  the 
Flopper  looked. 


296  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  tensely,  under  her 
breath. 

Madison's  lips  moved  —  silently.  His  face 
was  white,  ashen  —  there  was  no  color  in  it. 
Then  his  lips  moved  once  more. 

''  The  way  out,"  he  said;  and  again,  in  a  low, 
awed  way:  "  The  way  out.  We  can  make  res- 
titution now  —  we  can  give  it  all  back  —  he  has 
shown  us  the  way  out." 

Helena's  lips  were  quivering,  tears  were  dim- 
ming the  brown  eyes,  trembling  on  the  lashes,  as 
she  stepped  now  to  Madison's  side. 

"  It  is  God  who  has  shown  us  the  way  out,"  she 
whispered  brokenly  —  and  dropping  down  before 
the  chair,  her  little  form  shaken  with  sobs,  she  hid 
her  face  on  the  Patriarch's  knees. 

And  serene  and  peaceful  as  a  child  in  sleep,  a 
smile  like  a  benediction  on  the  saintly  face,  the 
Patriarch  sat  in  his  armchair  by  the  fireplace  where 
he  had  been  wont  to  sit  in  years  gone  by  —  and  so 
he  had  passed  on. 

The  Patriarch  was  dead. 


I 


VALE! 

years  have  passed — -but  in  their 
passing  have  brought  few  changes  to 
the  little  village  nestling  in  the  Maine 
pines  that  border  on  the  sea.  Not 
many  changes  —  it  is  as  though  Time  had  touched 
it  loath  to  touch  at  all ;  as  though  some  spirit  lin- 
gering there,  sweet  and  fresh  and  vernal,  had  bade 
Time  stay  its  hand. 

Not  many  changes  —  the  same  familiar  faces 
gather  around  the  stove  in  the  hotel  office;  and, 
neither  as  a  memory,  nor  yet  as  of  one  who  has 
gone,  but  as  if  he  were  amongst  them,  living  still, 
they  speak  of  the  Patriarch  as  of  yore. 

And  with  this  little  circle  of  kindly,  simple  folk 
Time  has  dealt  gently  too,  for  there  is  only  one 
who  is  no  more  —  Cale  Rodgers,  the  proprietor 
of  the  general  store. 

But  the  general  store  on  the  village  street  still 
flourishes,  and  in  Cale  Rodgers'  place  is  one 
whose  speech  is  still  a  marvelous  thing  in  staid  old 
New  England  ears  —  it  is  an  Irish  brogue  per- 
haps, for  his  name  is  Michael  Coogan.  There 
are  little  Coogans  too,  and  Mamie  is  a  happy  wife. 

297 


298  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

And  to  the  Coogans  come  sometimes  letters  from 
a  far-western  farm  to  say  that  things  are  well  and 
that  prosperity  has  come  to  one  who  signs  him- 
self—  facetiously  it  always  seems  to  Mamie  who 
reads  the  letters  to  her  husband  —  as  Pale  Face 
Harry. 

And  so  the  years  have  passed,  and  it  is  summer 
time  again.  The  fields  are  green;  the  trees  in 
leaf;  the  flowers  in  bloom.  And  there  are  visit- 
ors who  have  come  again  to  the  scenes  of  yester- 
day —  a  man  and  woman  —  and  between  them  a 
sturdy  little  lad  of  eight.  They  stop  at  the  end 
of  the  wagon  track  and  look  out  across  the 
lawn. 

It  is  still  and  peaceful,  tranquil — -  and  to  them 
comes  the  soft,  low  murmur  of  the  surf.  Slowly 
they  walk  across  the  lawn,  and  pass  beneath  the 
splendid  maples  —  and  pause  again. 

The  cottage  is  like  some  poet's  fancy,  hidden 
shyly  in  its  creepers  and  its  vines;  and  seems  to 
speak  and  breathe  in  its  simple  beauty  of  the  gen- 
tle soul  who  once  had  lived  there  —  and  loved  his 
fellow-men.  It  is  as  it  always  was,  open,  free  for 
all  to  pass  within  who  wish  to  enter;  for  loving 
hands  have  cared  for  it,  and  grateful  purses,  op- 
ened to  its  needs,  have  kept  it  as  —  a  Shrine. 

But  they  do  not  enter  now,  for  Madison  points 
to  where  the  sunlight,  as  it  glints  through  the  trees 
at  the  far  end  of  the  cottage,  falls  on  a  slender 
shaft  of  marble. 

"  Let  us  go  there,  Helena,"  he  said  softly. 

And  so  they  walked  that  way,  past  the  trellises 


VALE!  25? 

laden  with  flowers,  past  the  end  of  the  cottage, 
and  presently  they  stopped  again  where,  beneath 
the  maples'  shade,  rises  the  pure  white  stone  — 
and  beyond  it  is  the  sweep  of  the  eternal  sea. 

Madison,  his  hair  streaking  just  a  little  gray  at 
the  temples  now,  removed  his  hat  —  and  his  face 
softened,  saddened,  as  he  read  the  simple  inscrip- 
tion : 

THE  PATRIARCH 

The  boy  glanced  at  his  father  a  little  wonder- 
ingly  —  and  then  spelt  out  the  words.  He  shook 
his  head. 

"  I  don't  know  what  that  means,"  he  said. 
"  What  does  that  word  mean?  " 

Madison  patted  his  head. 

"You  tell  him,  Helena,"  he  said  —  and  came 
and  stood  beside  her. 

And  so  Helena  told  the  boy  in  simple  language 
as  much  of  the  Patriarch's  story  as  she  thought 
he  could  understand  —  and  when  she  had  finished 
the  boy's  face  was  aglow. 

"And!"  he  said  breathlessly,  "and  —  and 
did  he  ever  do  a  really,  truly-truly  miracle?  " 

There  was  silence  for  an  instant  —  then  a  ten- 
der smile  came  trembling  to  Helena's  lips,  and 
into  the  brown  eyes  crept  the  love-light,  as  she 
reached  out  to  Madison  and  her  hand  found 
his  and  held  it  very  tightly. 

And  Madison  bent  and  kissed  her;  and  drew  the 
little  lad  between  them  and  laid  his  hand  on  the 
boy's  head,  and  answered  for  Helena. 


300  THE  MIRACLE  MAN 

'  Yes,  my  son,"  he  said;  "  and  some  day  when 
you  are  a  man  you  will  understand  how  great  a 
miracle  it  was4" 


THE  END 


STORIES  OF  RARE  CHARM  BY 

GENE   STRATTON-PORTER 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.     Ask  for  Srocset  &  Dunlap't  Itet. 

MICHAEL  O'HALLORAN.      Illustrated  by  Frances  Rogers. 

Michael  is  a  quick-witted  little  Irish  newsboy,  living  in  Northern 
Indiana.     He  adopts  a  deserted  little  girl,  a  cripple.     He  also  as- 
sumes the  responsibility  of  leading  the  entire  rural  community  up- 
ward and  onward, 
LADDIE.     Illustrated  by  Herman  Pfeifer. 

This  is  a  bright,  cheery  tale  with  the  scenes  laid  in  Indiana.  The 
story  is  told  by  Little  Sister,  the  youngest  member  of  a  large  family, 
but  it  is  concerned  not  so  much  with  childish  doings  as  with  the  love 
affairs  of  older  members  of  the  family.  Chief  among  them  is  that 
of  Laddie  and  the  Princess,  an  English  girl  who  has  come  to  live  in 
the  neighborhood  and  about  whose  family  there  hangs  a  mystery. 
THE  HARVESTER.  Illustrated  by  W.  L.  Jacobs. 

"  The  Harvester, "  is  a  man  of  the  woods  and  fields,  and  if  the 
book  had  nothing  in  it  but  the  splendid  figure  of  this  man  it  would 
be  notable.     But  when  the  Girl  comes  to  his  "  Medicine  Woods," 
there  begins  a  romance  of  the  rarest  idyllic  quality. 
FRECKLES.      Illustrated. 

Freckles  is  a  nameless  waif  when  the  tale  opens,' but  the  way  in( 
which  he  takes  hold  of  life  ;  the  nature  friendships  he  forma  in  the 
great  Limberlost  Swamp  ;  the  manner  in  which  everyone  who  meets 
him  succumbs  to  the  charm  of  his  engaging  personality  ;  and  big/ 
love-story  with  "  The  Angel "  are  full  of  real  sentiment, 
A  GIRL  OF  THE  LIMBERLOST.      Illustrated. 

The  story  of  a  girl  of  the  Michigan  woods ;  a  buoyant,  loveable ' 
type  of  the  self-reliant  American.  Her  philosophy  is  one  of  love  and 
kindness  towards  all  things  ;  her  hope  is  never  dimmed.  And  by 
the  sheer  beauty  of  her  soul,  and  the  purity  of  her  vision,  she  wins  from 
barren  and  unpromising  surroundings  those  rewards  of  high  courage. 
AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW.  Illustrations  in  colors. 

The  scene  of  this  charming  love  story  is  laid  in  Central  Indiana, 
The   story  is  one  of  devoted  friendship,  and  tender  self-sacrificing 
love.     The  novel  is  brimful  of  the  most  beautiful  word  painting  of 
nature,  and  its  pathos  and  tender  sentiment  will  endear  it  to  all. 
THE  SONG  OF  THE  CARDINAL.     Profusely  illustrated. 

A  love  ideal  of  the  Cardinal  bird  and  hia  mate,  told  with  delicacy; 
and  humor.  J 


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KATHLEEN  NORRIS'   STORIES 

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MOTHER.    Ehistrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  book  has  a  fairy-story  touch,  counterbalanced  by 
the  aturdy  reality  of  struggle,  sacrifice,  and  resulting  peace 
and  power  of  a  mother's  experiences. 

SATURDAY'S  CHILD. 

Frontispiece  by  F.  Graham"  Goo tes. 

Out  on  the  Pacific  coast  a  normal  girl,  obscure  and  lovely; 
makes  a  quest  for  happiness.  She  passes  through  three 
stages — poverty,  wealth  and  service — and  works  out  a 
creditable  salvation. 

THE  RICH  MRS.  BURGOYNE. 
Illustrated  by  Lucius  H.  Hitchcock. 

The  story  of  a  sensible  woman  who' keeps  within  her 
means,  refuses  to  be  swamped  by  social  engagements,  liv«B 
a  normal  human  life  of  varied  interests,  and  has  her  own 
romance. 

THE  STORY  OF  JULIA^PAGE. 

Frontispiece  by  Allan  Gilbert. 

How  Julia  Page,  reared  in  rather  unpromising  surround- 
ings, lifted  herself  through  sheer  determination  to  a  higher 
plane  of  life. 

THE  HEART  OF  RACHAEL. 

Frontispiece  by  Charles  E.  Chambers. 

Rachael  is  called  upon  to  solve  many  problems,  and  HI 
working  out  these,  there  is  shown  the  beauty  and  strength 
of  soul  of  one  of  fiction's  most  appealing  characters. 

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